Mr and Mrs Matthews
by PrincessPalmtree
Summary: Prompt: PerSalle as an undercover couple. Set 2 months after the season finale. Percy and LaSalle are quickly swept away into the world of undercover operations as married couple Ryan and Alicia Matthews in upstate New York. Will they track down the murderer of former Petty Officer Amber Matthews or lose their own lives in the process? Multi-chapter. Rated T. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** **Hey, guys! I'm back with some more PerSalle for you. This story originally was only meant to be a one-shot, but as I wrote, my plot became a bit more complicated than I expected! Which hopefully is a good thing, for you all. It's somewhat of a murder-mystery which is really exciting. I'm shooting for a 2 chapter piece but I'll see where our story goes. I want to thank all my friends on Twitter for their constant support! I couldn't do this without you. If anyone has another prompt/question for me tweet me** _ **soloxsalvatore**_ **. Thank you.**

 **[Prompt: Percy and LaSalle as an undercover couple.]**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from NCIS NOLA but all other characters are a creation of my own.**

 **Please review!**

…

"You guys will do great! Everyone down here is rooting for you."

"Why does it have to be _me?_ Why couldn't you have gone with LaSalle, or better yet, you and Pride. I just don't think this such a good idea," Sonja protested, fumbling with the vending machine, her shoulder pressing the cell phone to her ear.

Brody laughed.

"You're kidding, right? Sonja, you've worked undercover cases hundreds of times. You're the most qualified agent for the job."

"That may be true but what about _LaSalle?_ That lunk-head could blow the whole operation!"

"Did someone say my name?" a voice chimed in from behind as she flipped around to see Chris LaSalle, himself, toting two cups of coffee and some snacks. He lifted the items with a grin.

"If Pride thought LaSalle would blow the entire operation he wouldn't have assigned him with you. Just take your time explaining any important information and everything should go smoothly."

"Easier said than done," Sonja grumbled, giving up on her struggle with the machine.

"Who's that? Brody?" LaSalle whispered, handing her the coffee and a snack.

"Mhm." Sonja took a sip of the drink while closely inspecting the bag of food.

"Don't worry, Percy. It's vegan, gluten-free, trans-fat free, probably _taste_ free as well," he rattled off with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes.

"Think of the former Petty Officer we're doing this for, okay? Think of Amber Matthews and her parents who are waiting on us to catch her murderer. If you guys don't pull this off I don't know how we'll manage to get close enough to this organization again," Brody informed her.

"You're right," Sonja replied with a somber nod. "We'll get it done."

LaSalle silently stood next to her soaking up any part of the conversation he could.

"Like Pride said the other day, you and LaSalle have a natural chemistry that anyone would be stupid enough not to believe," Brody laughed. "Now your 'work husband' is your fake 'real husband'."

"Oh my God, please stop talking. _Natural chemistry?_ You're as bad as LaSalle."

"What? What did she say?" he chuckled, bouncing on his heels like a little boy.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Percy muttered, covering the phones mouthpiece.

His smile widened.

"You guys have the case file and your papers with your identities and background information on them, correct? As well as your new licenses and boarding passes? And you remember where you're going when the plane lands?"

"Yeah, everything is here with us. I remember where we need to go."

"Okay, then that should be all for now. If you have any more questions or concerns just shoot me or Pride a text. We've been in contact with the local authorities in New York if you guys need back-up at any time. All you have to do is get in touch with us."

Sonja took in a deep breath.

"Alright then. I'll text you later tonight with any updates."

"Good luck, Sonja. I think you're going to need it."

Sonja looked over at LaSalle who was waving around their tickets to hop a flight to New York City, mouthing, ' _we need to go!'_

"Thanks, Merri," she sighed, hanging up the phone.

"Ready for our newest adventure, partner?" he smiled, nudging her shoulder as they made their way toward the gate.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

…

It was three days ago when the team was called to investigate the murder of former Petty Officer Amber Matthews whose body was found lying in a hotel room in a bad part of town in New Orleans. Initially there was no evidence as to why she was there or who might have been with her due to the lack of fingerprints or blood samples. She was shot, point blank, in the head and the room appeared untouched, as if she let her attacker in. The only clue to her murder was a card the team found in her pocket with the name ' _Lawrence Livingston'_ etched along the bottom with the description of _'Art Dealer: NY, NY,'_ and his number. After notifying her family, the team came to learn that they were a _family_ of art dealers. Amber's parents, Ken and Lucy, lived in New York City and ran their own art gallery in the heart of the city. Amber and her brother, Ryan, worked in their parents separate art gallery positioned in New Orleans. Lawrence Livingston, the man mentioned on the card, was a fellow dealer Amber had been talking on and off with for a couple of weeks. He came to Ken and Lucy in their shop in New York requesting a specific painting, which happened to be located at the gallery in New Orleans. They told him to get in touch with Amber over the phone so they could plan a meeting over the painting. The last her parents knew, he had finally set up a time and flown to New Orleans to meet with Amber. They hadn't heard a thing from either of them since. Now, Amber turns up dead with no Mr. Livingston _or_ painting in sight. A day after the murder the team tracked the suspected killer, Lawrence Livingston, back to his mansion located in New York City. The local authorities cooperated with NCIS and gave up any information they could on his testimony. Apparently he and Amber _had_ got together for a meeting the night her parents had assumed. They met at his hotel, in an upscale part of town, and discussed the painting over dinner. Amber had the painting safely packaged and was storing it in her truck. Before she could show it to him, he claimed she received an urgent phone call and had to cut the meeting short. She left in a hurry and he hadn't seen her since. Agent Pride, not one to be gullible, didn't believe the man's story one bit. There were multiple witnesses at Livingston's hotel who placed Amber with him at the times he relayed to police but none saw her leave the establishment. However, her truck containing the piece of artwork, was found in the parking lot of her _own_ hotel where she supposedly met her demise. If the killer was after the art wouldn't he have taken it? No money or any other valuable belongings were removed, suggesting it was not a robbery. This sparked Pride's interest in the case, and moreover, interest in Mr. Livingston. Usually, Pride would have suspects transferred to NCIS for questioning, but this time he concocted a new plan. Going undercover. If his instincts were correct, there was more to this case than meets the eye- possibly a crime a ring or something of the sort. This is where Agent Percy came in, having so much experience in that particular area. Though, she would need a partner if the mission was to be a success. That's where Agent LaSalle came in. Posing as Ryan Matthews, Ambers Brother, LaSalle would schedule a meeting with Mr. Livingston to finish the deal with the painting. Sonja, undercover as Ryan's wife, Alicia Matthews, would accompany him to the meeting set at the mansion and unearth any new information she could out of Livingston's wife and other guests. The _real_ Mr. and Mrs. Matthews were being kept at a safe house in New Orleans, closely watched by the team and Pride himself.

Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal for Sonja, who was used to being thrown into dangerous undercover operations. _Solo_ operations. Now, she would have no choice but to let LaSalle run the show as the 'experienced art dealer'. Not to mention the fact they were going to be playing husband and wife for a few days! But Pride wouldn't hear a word. He reassured her over and over again that LaSalle was the perfect agent to play the part of Ryan Matthews. It was imperative that Mr. Livingston believe they were a genuine married couple or the mission would turn into a ginormous failure, possibly resulting in the loss of their own lives. It was Sonja's job to give the situation a sheen of authenticity, due to LaSalle's inexperience. It was safe to say her confidence was dropping by the minute. _He's too unpredictable,_ she thought to herself. _There is no way to calculate Christopher LaSalle's moves._

Her worries continued to eat away at her as she glanced through the papers on her background information for the seven-hundredth time. _Alicia Matthews. 30 years old. Married to Ryan Matthews for 3 years. No children. Yoga instructor…_

"Are ya alright? You seem a bit jumpy," a deep voice questioned from beside her.

Sonja turned her head to see LaSalle sipping a mini bottle of alcohol, his papers in hand.

" _Seriously_ , Christopher? You're drinking while trying to learn important information? This is life or death here!"

"Christopher?" he mused, scratching his chin. "I don't know anyone by that name, darlin'."

Sonja slammed a hand to her forehead.

"Stop. We technically haven't even started the mission."

"Exactly _._ I'm already doin' better than you! Best start practicin' now, don't you think _, Alicia_?" he winked on the last part.

"You think you're so smart, huh? How about I test out that _vast_ knowledge of yours."

Being in first class on the airplane gave them a certain amount of privacy where they could be seated far apart from other passengers. It was perfect for a little fun and games without giving away your cover.

"Okay, take your best shot," he grinned, twisting around in his seat. He playfully took another sip of his drink, eyebrows wiggling.

"How long have we been married?" she asked, eyes peeking over the paper to gage his reaction.

"Three _beautiful_ years, Wifey," he chirped, lashes fluttering.

"Oh my God," she grumbled.

"Keep goin'!"

"How many kids do we have?"

He pointed the bottle at her.

"Ha! Trick question. We ain't got no bundles of joy, just yet."

" _Yet?_ " she scoffed. "You're hilarious."

"I know."

"You're up to date on the art lingo and everything you're supposed to know about the painting?"

"Sure. Mostly. I'm gettin' there."

"You better! For _our_ sake," she reprimanded.

"I will, I will. Trust me."

Sonja shook her head.

"Most of this stuff is basic facts so we're going to be making up most of our life story on the fly, like how we met and what we like to do in our personal time. Do you think you can handle that?"

"Yeah. I think so. I know you pretty well by now, don't I?" he asked, eyes bright.

She paused.

"You do. But this isn't _me_ we're talking about- it's Alicia. So adjust your answers accordingly when it comes up, okay?"

"Done. Now we better zip our lips and get some rest because by the time we make it to New York it'll be go time." He gave a decided nod and tucked a pillow against the window to cradle his head.

Sonja snatched the liquor out of his hand and sat it on a cart wheeling down the walkway. He opened one eye at her and gave a low chuckle.

She gathered up all their papers and tucked them away, smirking.

"Night," she whispered, crossing her arms, head laid back.

No matter how much of an effort she gave in falling asleep, for some reason Sonja couldn't. She peered over at LaSalle who was slumbering quietly, outwardly at ease. Sonja wondered why he wasn't as stressed as she was about the whole thing. Was he really okay with the idea of them being _married_ , for God's sake? For Sonja, it was a little too much. During the teams two-week hiatus a couple months back, they spent that night at the jazz club together, and the line between friends and _more_ than friends became increasingly blurred. It was difficult for her to open up to him at first, but when he called her again a few days after that, they talked on the phone for _hours_ like everything was okay- maybe even better than okay. That was a huge step for Sonja to take in accepting the idea of their relationship evolving, which it seemed to be doing every single day. That's why doing the undercover mission with him was turning her emotions inside out, it was like suddenly going from baby steps to huge leaps. To some degree, LaSalle understood her insecurities. She could tell by the ten million times he'd been checking on her since assigned the case. It gave her a sense of comfort to be aware of that. Now, all she had left to do was keep her composure and pray that nothing goes wrong.

…

The pair landed in New York hours later, fully rested and senses awakening to the summer afternoon. They hailed a taxi, asking the driver to take them to a cheap hotel not far from the airport. They had already called to book a room a day ago to have a place to change clothes and hide out if necessary. Otherwise, they were to stay at Lawrence Livingston's mansion for a day or two along with several other guests. Pride had also made sure the painting was mailed to the mansion before they arrived. A car was scheduled to arrive in an hour to pick them up and take them over to the estate.

Once checked in and inside the small room, Sonja laid her suitcase on the bed and began combing through her belongings. LaSalle chose the couch to do the same.

Agent Pride was very particular on how the 'couple' should dress, having met the actual Mr. and Mrs. Matthews in person. This caused Sonja mild distress after viewing the wardrobe.

"Where in the _world_ did Pride get these clothes?! They were already wrapped in tissue paper when he handed them to me so I couldn't really see what was going on but-''

"I see what you mean," he marveled, carefully rifling through his clothes. "These don't look very 'Christopher LaSalle' at _all."_

"I guess that's a good thing," she muttered. "We aren't supposed to look like ourselves."

"That's one part of the mission that's accomplished!"

After putting aside another outfit, Sonja spotted a small box at the bottom of the suitcase. She reached in and plucked it out, flipping its tiny lid open. She gasped.

" _Whoa._ What in the…"

"You found a ring, too?" LaSalle inquired, holding up a small box as well.

"Who slipped these into our suitcases? I'll bet you a hundred bucks it was Merri!"

"She wouldn't have done it if Pride hadn't told her to. Besides, we can't be married without the rings to show it, am I right?" he swayed, one hand in his pocket and the other shaking the box.

"Yeah, I know. It's just," she peeked inside the box again, cringing. "It looks like it costs a fortune."

"Mine looks pretty snazzy as well. I'm sure Pride had them rented for the time bein'. Don't stress about it, okay? We got enough on our plate to worry about as it is."

"Like catching a murderer," she sighed, the weight of the situation coming to the forefront of her mind.

"Right. We better get dressed, the car will be here soon!"

Nodding, Sonja grabbed her clothes, shoes, and various accessories before escaping to the bathroom. It only took LaSalle a minute or two to figure out his new wardrobe and put it on without a hitch, not to say that it was comfortable.

Thirty minutes had passed and Sonja was still in the bathroom when there was a ' _honk_ ' outside of the building, signaling the arrival of the car. _Show time._

"Sonj- _Alicia!_ The car is here. Better get a move on," he called, checking his hair in the mirror one last time. Waiting for an answer, he took a deep breath and slipped on his platinum wedding band.

"Um. Go out there and let them know I'm on way. I just need to grab my suitcase," she called.

"I got the suitcases. Come out when you're ready," he replied.

Sonja heard both the suitcases rolling across the floor and the door open and close before she exited the bathroom, rubbing her hands up and down her legs. Sighing, she took a big drink of water and shook out her arms nervously. She closed her eyes and thought of Amber, Ambers parents, and the sadness her entire family must be feeling at the loss of such a beloved family member. This mission wasn't about her, or LaSalle- it was about Amber. It was about tracking down and arresting the man who took her life.

With determination, Sonja grabbed her handbag and flung open the door. LaSalle was standing next to the car casually chatting with the driver, not surprisingly, one hand tucked in his pocket. Sonja involuntarily sucked in her breath, eyes growing wide. If he passed her on the street she would barely have recognized him. He wore cream colored dress pants and matching jacket, perfectly tailored to fit his body. A white, collared shirt lay beneath it all paired with a plain charcoal gray tie. His dress shoes were polished, black and laced. He appeared to also have lightly styled his hair. His conversation with the man carried on, as he seemed unaware of her presence. He was grinning and offhandedly scratching his jaw, when Sonja caught a glimpse of his wedding band glinting in the sunlight. She blinked, swallowing hard. It was time for Alicia Matthews to make her entrance.

"Hello boys, I'm sorry I took so long! The dress was giving me a bit of a hard time."

LaSalle and the driver halted their conversation, turning to greet her. The man remained calm, politely smiling while LaSalle nearly did a double- take, his mouth seemingly unable to close. Sonja had chosen a skin tight, solid red dress with one inch straps and low neckline, exposing just the right amount of cleavage. The dress landed slightly above the knee, displaying her glowing caramel legs. Her shoes were black, pointed toe three inch heels. Her hair was half down while the other was put into an elegant bun on top of her head. She gripped her bag and anxiously swirled the object around her finger- an oval diamond halo, white gold, wedding ring.

"Well, even though it gave you a hard time it looks simply _lovely_ on you, Ma'am," the older man commended.

"I agree. You truly have-" LaSalle gulped, "Outdone yourself."

Sonja put on a faux grin.

"Thank you! I'm glad to hear it. We should be on our way then, we don't want to be late."

The driver gave a quick nod of understanding and slipped into the car. LaSalle opened the door to the backseat and waited for her to approach, his hand landing on her waist.

"You ready for this?" he asked quietly, eyes inquisitive.

"I'm ready," she told him, gripping his arm. She wasn't sure if their gestures towards each other were Percy and LaSalle or Alicia and Ryan and at the moment she didn't care, feeling safe with him was all that mattered.

She slid into the seat first as he followed after her.

"Your husband said you two are on your way to the Livingston estate?" the driver asked, throwing the car in drive.

"That's correct. Are you familiar with that family?" Sonja replied.

"Not really, only a little bit. I hear they're in the art business. Mr. Livingston seems like a nice guy from what people around town say."

"We wouldn't really know either, this is our first time meeting him."

"From what your husband says about your gallery in New Orleans, you should be able to sell him anything without any trouble," he smiled in the rearview mirror.

"That's what we're hopin'," LaSalle smiled, sweetly glancing at Sonja.

The rest of the car ride was fairly quiet until they finally arrived at the entrance of the mansion, a high security gate blocking their way. The driver exited the vehicle and went over to a speaker, pressing a button.

"I have a Mr. and Mrs. Matthews here to see Mr. Livingston," he announced. It took a few moments for anyone to reply.

"Alright. We'll open the gate and you can pull up to the front," a deep voice instructed.

The driver hopped back in and the trio waited for the gate to slowly pull apart. Once it was fully ajar, they drove through and up to the large stone stairway leading to the mansions huge front door. The building was surrounded by acres of healthy green grass and perfectly manicured bushes and other various plants. There was a small separate building off to the side and also a four-car garage closely nestled beside it. A large group of attractively dressed people with wine glasses in hand came pouring down the steps, smiles on their faces.

LaSalle got out of the car and took Sonja's hand, helping her out as well. The driver had already swooped away and retrieved the luggage from the trunk, sitting it near the steps.

"If that's all, I'll be on my way then. If you two need a ride to the airport at any time just give me a holler," he grinned with a bow. "I appreciate you paying me in advance."

"No problem. Thank you for your time," LaSalle replied, returning the smile. The driver quickly exited the property, leaving Sonja and LaSalle with the ever-so-popular Mr. Livingston and his guests.

"My, my. Mr. and Mrs. Matthews! Such a pleasure to finally meet you," he chimed, reaching out to firmly shake LaSalle's hand.

The man had dark brown hair swept back with styling gel. His suit was white with black pin stripes, paired with a white shirt and tie and also a purple pocket square. His eyes were brown and his jawline was sharp as a knife.

"You as well, Mr. Livingston. My sister never really got a chance to tell me much about ya," LaSalle relayed, a solemn smile on his face.

Mr. Livingston's expression became saddened.

"Ah, yes. Sweet Amber. She was a lovely woman it seemed." He pressed a hand to his heart.

"May she rest in peace," a woman spoke, stepping forward to take LaSalle's hand out of Mr. Livingston's. She held his hand in both of her own, her stiletto nails encompassing his skin. Her eyes were wide and glossy. Sonja wanted to throw her across the yard.

"I'm Mrs. Livingston, but you can call me Jan," the woman explained, her red lips spreading into a smile. Her hair was shoulder length and curly, bleach blonde in color. The dress she wore was long, white and flowing and had a black belt twisted around the waist.

"I'm Mrs. Matthews, but you can call me Alicia," Sonja chirped, looping an arm through LaSalle's as she stared back at Mrs. Livingston with the hugest grin she could muster.

The woman's smile quickly fell as she cleared her throat, releasing LaSalle's hand to shake Sonja's.

"Of course. So nice to meet you," she quietly replied, her smile resurfacing.

Mr. Livingston was motioning a woman in housekeeping apparel to take their luggage up to the house while all the other guests began making their way back up the steps.

"We can finish all these cordial greetings after Matilda shows you two to your room. We have several other guests staying with us, as you can see, and the first floor guest rooms are all occupied. Would staying on the second floor in one of the other guest rooms work for you?" Mr. Livingston asked, escorting them up the steps.

"Does that work for us, sweetheart?" LaSalle asked her, glancing her direction with a sly grin. Sonja fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"Yes, I think it will."

"Excellent!" the man smiled, motioning them through the front door. "I, my wife, and our guests will be in the back yard preparing for dinner and having drinks if you would care to join us. I thought we would start on _business_ tomorrow." He winked, slapping LaSalle on the shoulder.

"That sounds great. Thank you for your hospitality," Sonja smiled.

"Alright then, Matilda? Please show them to their room."

The woman nodded, grabbing the suitcases and lugging them up the grand staircase that lead to the second floor. When Mr. Livingston and the other guests were out of sight, LaSalle swiftly took the luggage from Matilda and gave a reassuring smile at her confusion.

"It would be rude of me to let ya carry these all the way up there. I know it's usually your job but it just feels wrong, as a man, to let ya do that. I beg your pardon," he told her.

The woman stood completely stunned for several seconds before she snapped out of it and smiled back at him. Sonja was nearly stunned herself at his chivalry.

"Thank you, Mr. Matthews. That's very nice of you," she softly spoke.

Matilda continued to lead the way until they were at the door of their room. She pushed it open, patting the doorframe.

"This is it. If you two happen to have any questions or need new towels just pick up the phone next to the bed and dial the _'laundry'_ button. That's the room I'm in most of the time."

"Thank you, Matilda. We'll be sure to do that," Sonja assured her.

The housekeeper gave a wave and quickly departed, leaving the agents alone to explore their room.

They both took in a deep breath and stepped over the threshold, LaSalle sitting their bags to the side. Sonja shut the door before she exclaimed.

"There's one bed. _What_ are we going to do about one bed?"

LaSalle held a finger to lips and began sweeping over the area, checking inside lamps and under dressers and tables. Sonja raised a brow. After a minute or two he nodded.

"We're good. I was checkin' for bugs in case Mr. Livingston was plannin' on spyin' on us."

She blinked. "Oh. That's smart, LaSalle."

"Thank you," he beamed proudly.

" _Now,_ what are we going to do about this sleeping situation?"

He motioned toward the couch.

"I'll sleep over there. Simple enough."

"That wouldn't bother you?"

"It's not _ideal_ , but it's only for a night. I can handle it."

"Cool."

Sonja sighed, tapping her foot in an anxious manner.

"Should we go down and have dinner with them?"

"I suppose so. We aren't goin' to conduct any business tonight so we might as well pretend like we're relaxed, that way, we can get a lil' more insight into who Mr. Livingston _really_ is."

"What if Pride's wrong? What we have this all mixed up and the real killer is out on the loose?" Sonja asked, her voice laced with concern.

"We won't know until tomorrow when I show him the paintin', I suspect. He seems like the type to not show his cards all at once, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I get the same vibe."

"We better get down there before they get suspicious," LaSalle suggested, gently guiding her toward the door with his hand on her back. Sonja was still not used to the constant touching.

Another housekeeper, Angela, pointed them in the direction of the party which was being held in the backyard on an intricately designed stone patio that spanned several feet across the yard. In the middle of the patio was a fire pit which was lit, and to the left side sat a stainless steel grill and wet bar. The guests were seated on some of the outdoor furniture such as the couch and other various shaped chairs.

"Ryan! Alicia! So glad you could join us," Mr. Livingston exclaimed, raising a drink in celebration. All the other guests followed suit, glasses raised. "I hope you don't mind if I call you by your first names. Amber spoke about you two in that manner and I only think it would be appropriate for the setting."

"That's fine. My sister spoke about my wife and me? In what way?" LaSalle replied, graciously accepting a beer a bartender was offering.

"She told me all about your job at the gallery and how she couldn't do it without you," he smiled with almost a hint of mischief in his eyes. "She also told me how Alicia was like the sister she never had. Clearly, she loved you both very much."

"I appreciate the kind words, Mr. Livingston."

"Please, call me Lawrence. We're among friends, after all!"

"That's good to hear," LaSalle nodded, taking a seat, briefly locking eyes with the man for a second too long.

"What can a girl do to get a drink around here?" Sonja laughed, playfully rubbing LaSalle's shoulder in an attempt to break any tension.

"My apologies, Alicia. What would you like? My wife and her friends seem to be favoring a raspberry sangria at the moment."

"Sounds fantastic," she replied, eyes sparkling.

Mr. Livingston snapped his fingers at one of the bartenders who began creating the requested drink in a flurry. His wife, Jan, was seated in a lounge chair sipping her drink. She was eyeing Sonja interestedly.

"I certainly admire your dress, Alicia. Where on earth did you buy it?"

The bartender slipped a drink into Sonja's hand as she stood there, speechless.

"Uh- well, it was a gift. From my husband. So you'll have to ask him," she explained, quickly bringing the fruity alcohol to her lips.

LaSalle was in the middle of a conversation with another one of the guests when Mr. Livingston motioned to his wife.

"My wife has a finer taste for things in life, Ryan," he said, swirling his drink around in his hand. "Unfortunately for my wallet." The guests busted up in laughter. "She was wondering where you bought that lovely dress for your own wife."

LaSalle cranked his head to give Sonja an up-down. She smiled, mouthing ' _sorry'._

Without skipping a beat he replied to Mr. Livingston.

"There's a lil' boutique in New Orleans that Alicia just _loves._ It's a local place, not many people from out of town know about it. The owner buys dresses from all the world and puts them in her shop, so ya never know what you're gonna get! I just happened to be walkin' by one summer evenin' and spotted it in the window. I knew I had to get it for her even before checkin' the price."

There was a resounding ' _awe'_ from all of the female guests. Mr. Livingston's wife seemed enraptured, her drink pulled to her chest with watery eyes.

"You're a good man, Ryan Matthews," Mr. Livingston congratulated, clinking his drink against LaSalle's.

"And an even better husband," Jan cooed, discreetly wiping her eyes.

"Did you _hear_ him, Lorraine? His accent is simply _rugged_ ," another woman attempted to whisper to a friend, fanning herself with a magazine.

"Ryan is the best. I don't know what I'd do without him," Sonja piped in, placing her free hand on his shoulder once more with a loving squeeze.

LaSalle smiled up at her, turning his head to give her hand a light kiss. His lips softly caressed her skin but left as quickly as they came.

Sonja nearly jolted and could have spilled her drink if one of the other guests hadn't pulled her away from LaSalle to sit with the other women at a dining table.

"Sit with us, Alicia. Relax. Your feet must be killing you!" an older woman with dark hair styled in a pixie cut insisted. "I have no idea why you young girls like wearing those kind of shoes."

"Don't listen to her, darling. They're absolutely gorgeous," another woman piped in, crunching on a piece of celery from her Bloody Mary.

"Thank you. Are you all friends of Jan's?" Sonja asked, reluctantly taking a seat at the table.

"Yes, more or less. Our husbands are close friends with Lawrence so we _always_ get dragged along to these business parties. After a while we all eventually became pals," a small woman with a red bob explained, adjusting her glasses.

"What sort of business do you all do?" Sonja continued, careful not to pry.

"Our husbands don't really involve us in the process, but it's pretty much buying and selling of valuables, mainly artwork of course. That's the biggest commodity, right girls?"

"Right you are, Lorraine. It's always Van Gogh this, and Picasso that," the woman with the red bob sighed, downing her drink.

"Don't complain too much, Macy. I'm fairly certain your husband sold a Picasso not long ago which bought your children's way into college and _you_ another house," Mrs. Livingston smirked, breezing by on her way to the kitchen.

Macy, the woman Jan called out, slumped further down as she ruffled her bangs across her eyes in embarrassment.

"What do you mean by 'valuables'? What else do your husband's sell?" Sonja asked softly, feigning innocence in her intentions.

"I'm not sure, honestly. There was a necklace one time, and maybe a watch here or there. I'm never around for the transactions," Lorraine replied.

"You seem like you don't know much about this stuff. Is this your first business party?" a woman further down the table questioned.

"Yes, I'm usually not a part of any business to do with the art gallery. That was more an Amber and Ryan thing, but now that she's gone…"

"I understand. He didn't feel comfortable coming here alone," the woman nodded.

"Poor man. He must be so terribly lost in grief," said the woman with the bob.

"We're all so sorry for your loss. If you need anything just let us know," Lorraine kindly smiled.

Before Sonja could open her mouth to continue with her questions, Mrs. Livingston showed up in the doorway with a bell.

"Dinner is served, everyone!" she loudly rang. "Please find your seats at the dining table."

 _Damn it,_ Sonja thought. _I was so close._

"Mind if I join ya, Mrs. Matthews?" a husky southern voice inquired from behind her.

Sonja glanced and saw LaSalle smiling, eyeing the spot next to her at the table.

"Don't mind me, let me make so more room," said a woman who was seated close to Sonja, sliding away to make a space for him.

"Thank ya, Ma'am," he grinned in her direction.

He quickly sat down next to Sonja, laying a hand on her leg.

"Are ya doin' alright?" he whispered, leaning closer to her ear.

His warm breath tickled the skin on her neck, causing a shiver to run down her spine.

"I'm okay. What about you?"

"I'm good. Just can't wait to get out of this darn suit," he lowly chuckled.

"You're telling me. This dress is _awful._ "

"At least it don't _look_ awful," he smiled, eyes traveling over her figure.

She elbowed him.

"Cut it out. I'm never wearing this again," Sonja intensely whispered, suppressing her laughter.

"That's a cryin' shame," LaSalle replied, softly nudging her.

The housekeeping staff along with the assistance of the bartenders, cleared any empty glasses or plates and brushed off the table in preparation for the meal. In a matter of minutes, a dozen platters were set and fresh new plates were getting piled with food. The bartender refilled the alcoholic beverages and offered to create night-caps for anyone looking to wind down after a long meal. Sonja tasted all of the vegetarian portions due to their being no vegan option. LaSalle, of course, went straight for the meat and starch part of the meal which was no surprise. The conversation remained casual throughout the dining process, Mr. Livingston being adamant about no 'shop talk' at the table. Sonja had no chance of receiving any new information regarding business deals or how Amber Matthews may have been involved. But, tomorrow was another day.

It was nearly eleven o'clock at night and one too many drinks over before the pair bid everyone good night and left for their room. Halfway up the stairs, Sonja slipped off her high heels and flung them over her shoulder with a big yawn. LaSalle couldn't help but yawn as well, sneaking a grin at her behavior. Sonja pushed open the door to their room, her bones aching to take a rest in the bed.

"Do you mind if I use the bathroom first? I have to take off my makeup, and work on my hair, and brush my teeth, and- ''

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. No need to explain, Percy. I get it. Go do what ya gotta do," LaSalle hushed, already undoing his tie.

Sonja nodded and quickly grabbed the items she required from her suitcase. Slipping into the bathroom, it only took her fifteen minutes to get herself in order and ready for sleep. Her hair was taken care of, teeth were brushed, face clean, and body clothed in basketball shorts and an oversized t-shirt. She quietly exited the bathroom in case LaSalle had fallen asleep while waiting. He hadn't. She found him seated on the edge of the bed, shirtless, wearing a pair of shorts. A toothbrush was in his hand.

"All better now?" he asked, lips spreading into a smirk as he rose to his feet. Sonja clutched her discarded dress and shoes to her chest as he approached. She took in a shaky breath.

"Yes, actually. I'm all ready for bed."

"Good. We're gonna need our rest to get through tomorrow. Why don't ya text Brody before you go to sleep so she knows we're still alive."

"That's a great idea. I'll do that," Sonja nodded, dropping her wardrobe back into the suitcase.

LaSalle went into the bathroom a moment later, leaving Sonja alone to send a text and get settled in bed. She tossed and turned relentlessly until LaSalle finally emerged from the bathroom and shut off the remaining lights in the room. He retrieved a pillow and blanket from a nearby closet and arranged them to his likeness on the couch. She heard him release an audible sigh as he lay down. Several minutes of silence ensued to the point where Sonja thought he had gone to sleep.

"What do ya think about Mrs. Livingston and the other guests? Do they seem shifty to ya at all?" he suddenly asked, voice quiet.

"They're okay, I guess. I don't sense anything suspicious yet." She paused, flipping on her side to face his direction. "They're annoying as hell, though."

He laughed.

"Why do ya say that?"

" _Seriously_ , LaSalle? They're the most uptight, snooty, downright _dramatic_ group of people I've ever met. I had a migraine ten minutes into a conversation with them. My cheeks hurt from all that smiling."

"Did they tell ya anything important to our case?"

"I don't know. They mentioned they do these business parties a lot but they don't get involved in the transactions their husbands conduct. Apparently they do a little bit more than just selling paintings, though."

"Like what?"

"One woman said her husband was selling jewelry on a couple occasions."

" _Stolen_ jewelry, ya think?"

"Possibly. We can't be sure until you spend a little more time with Mr. Livingston."

LaSalle was silent.

"How was he, anyway? Did his friends seem like legit businessmen?" Sonja continued.

"He seemed nice enough, just like our driver told us earlier today. His friends were the same too. If they're master criminals they do a damn good job of hidin' it."

"Did any of them mention Amber or want to talk about painting?"

"Mr. Livingston said the paintin' was in that smaller buildin' next to the four-car garage. That's apparently where they talk business.As for Amber, they only offered me their condolences. That was about it."

"Interesting. Well, we should get some rest. Who knows what tomorrow has in store for us," Sonja whispered, another yawn escaping her lips.

"Yeah, you're right. Good night Percy," LaSalle replied, fluffing his pillow.

"Good night- and thank you for coming up with that story for the dress. I'm sorry I threw that on you."

"Don't mention it, partner. I told ya I could handle thinkin' on the fly. Not to mention the fact that I got the waterworks flowin'."

"Mrs. Livingston is practically in love with you," she scoffed.

"Most the women seemed to be interested in me. Why do ya think that is, Percy?"

Sonja finally rolled her eyes for the first time that night. It felt good.

"Because you're the 'rugged' southern man most of them fantasize about on their TV shows."

His laughter filled the room.

"I see. You wouldn't happen to have any experience fantasizin' about me _too,_ would ya?"

"Go to sleep, LaSalle," she barked, covering her head with a pillow.

…

Sleep eventually took her as minutes morphed into hours, and the warm blanket wrapped around her was a comfort after a long flight and a long day. Suddenly, the quietness of the room was interrupted by a shuffling noise. Sonja thought she was dreaming until it happened again, louder this time. She sat up in bed, subconsciously reaching for her nightstand which usually housed her gun- except not _this_ nightstand. Her senses alert, she gazed around the dark room and saw no signs of movement. The door was closed, lights off, and bathroom empty. What could the sound have been? Then she heard it again, but in this instance she saw where the noise was originating from. The couch. LaSalle was tossing and turning, flipping from side to side. The shuffling noise was the sound of his body rubbing up against the piece of furniture.

" _Christopher!_ " she hissed. "Knock it off. Why can't you stay still?"

"I'm sorry, Percy," came a groggy response. "This just ain't very comfortable."

"Have you tried sleeping on your back?"

"Yeah. The arm rest keeps diggin' into my neck."

"Even with the pillow?"

"It's a thin pillow."

She sighed.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Nothin'. Just try to go back to sleep."

"I can't sleep with all that noise!"

"Then I don't know what to tell ya."

Sonja was silent, quickly weighing her options. She groaned.

"I _cannot_ believe I'm saying this, but, you can…"

"I can what?"

"Share…the bed with me. _If_ you stay on your own side and behave!"

LaSalle gave a boyish laugh as he bounced off the couch excitedly.

"Thank you, Percy. You're too kind."

"Yeah, I know. Just get over here before I change my mind! I'm only agreeing to this because you have an important job to do tomorrow."

"It means a lot. Truly."

He smiled, pulling back the covers and sliding under. Sonja inched farther away from him, turning to face the opposite direction. At first, his presence was awkward and a little bit intimidating, but after a while Sonja felt her muscles relax and her heartbeat return to a regular pace. She heard him breathing deeply, slowly, in the midst of slumber. Peeking over her shoulder, he was positioned on his back, one arm behind his head. His bare chest was fully exposed, the blanket only covering his abdomen and down. His eyelids were closed and his expression was soft. It amazed her how carefree he was, how he approached any situation with lightheartedness and an open mind. Sonja chided herself for not being that type of person, it made things _so_ much more complicated. She had a huge wall built around her that she barely let anyone touch, let alone, tear down. But then came along Christopher LaSalle, a man she thought she understood completely the moment she met him. Cocky, stubborn, outspoken, charming. She wasn't wrong, but she wasn't exactly _right_ either. She underestimated him and that was her biggest error. Now, so many months later, he had somehow managed to chip away at the wall she had built _without_ her approval, against her will, and for some reason she didn't care. A part of Sonja had begun to accept that as a function of their relationship, an inevitability. It happened, and it was going to continue to happen whether either of them liked it or not. If she walked away, he would follow her. If she hung up on him he would call right back. If she told him to leave her alone she would never be lonely again. And if she told him she wasn't falling in love with him he wouldn't believe her. _Love._ Was that how she really felt about him? Pretending to be married opened Sonja's eyes to how it would _actually_ be like if she were married to LaSalle. Even though he was under the pretense of Ryan Matthews, much of the characteristics she admired so much remained the same. He was honest to Mr. Livingston, kind to Matilda, and took every chance he got to make her smile and see if she was okay. Despite what she thought about LaSalle going into the mission, he was once again, proving her wrong. He had an annoying habit of doing that.

…

It was extremely early in the morning and the moon's ray of milky light poured through an opening in the curtain, illuminating her face. She suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of peacefulness and clarity. The questions that had been whirling through her mind ever since the jazz club that seemed unbelievably perplexing were now plain as day. Being with him made her feel safe, happy, and free. She would do things no one else could ever convince her to do like go on a spontaneous outing, try new clothes, and dance until the sun comes up. That's what he did for her- _and she loved him for it._

 **To be continued…**

 **Post A/N:** **things are** _ **just**_ **starting to heat up between Percy and LaSalle but could Sonja change her mind in the morning and toss away her love confession? Are Mr. Livingston and his friends truly criminal masterminds? Only time will tell…. (look for chapter 2 soon!).**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** **Hey there, loyal readers! I know it's been too long but I promise this update is worth all the time I put into it. However, I would like to suggest something before you go on. My fic "This is not a date" is basically a prequel to this series in which I bring up some topics from that story on many occasions. Reading that one-shot and this two chapter fic, together, will make** _ **much**_ **more sense to you. (Sonja's character really goes through a full circle moment, which I really adore). So if you haven't read it, take a look! And if you forgot the plotline to this story go ahead and peek at chapter 1. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and come back to read more of my PerSalle adventures! (I also added a fun little flash-forward at the end too). I want to thank my friends on Twitter for being so supportive and patient with me! You know who you are. If anyone has a prompt suggestion just leave me a message and I'll see what I can do. School starts this month so hopefully you'll be seeing me around every once in a while when I get a break.**

 **You guys are amazing! Please leave a review.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the character featured on NCIS: New Orleans.**

…

Sonja Percy was in a deep slumber. Time and space melded together in perfect harmony in the darkness of her mind. A faint ' _knock'_ sounded somewhere in the distance, its origin unknown. Her senses collapsed upon one another as she dismissed the interruption, subconsciously pulling a blanket over her head. Then again, the knocking sound whispered through the air until it became so prominent Sonja sat up straight as a board, arm extending to the space next to her. Expecting her palm to come in contact with a warm body, she was surprised when she ended up grabbing a fistful of sheets. The ' _knock_ ' thundered louder.

Suddenly, the bathroom door to her right flew open. A cloud of steam dispersed into the room making her vision go hazy. Rubbing her heavy eyelids, she gasped as her sight began to come back into focus. Christopher LaSalle stood before her, practically naked, with a small towel wrapped around his waist. He appeared to have just hopped out of the shower due to the fact that he was drenched in water. He ran his fingers through his soggy hair, casually wiping droplets off his chest. The sunlight of the new day found its way through the curtain, casting a pleasant glow over his figure. Finishing his ministrations, his eye caught Sonja's before she had a chance to turn away and pretend she was asleep. Her cheeks burned red.

"Good mornin' there, Sleepy Head. Didn't ya hear the door?" he smiled, slowly running his tongue across his moist lips.

"I- uh, _yeah._ I did but-''

"Don't worry, since I'm already out here I might as well see who it is." His smile widened as she became increasingly flustered.

He took his time meandering over to the door, giving the knob a quick twist. Sonja heard a sharp intake of breath as soon as the door was ajar.

"Oh my, _forgive_ me Ryan! I had no idea you were preoccupied," a high-pitched woman's voice implored.

Sonja's expression turned infuriated. _Jan Livingston._

"No apology necessary, Mrs. Livingston! I was just lettin' my wife catch some more shut eye while I was in the shower and she didn't hear ya knockin'," he replied, motioning to Sonja in the bed.

The woman peeked around LaSalle's broad shoulders and gave an enthusiastic wave.

"Good morning, Alicia! So sorry to have woken you."

Sonja quickly wiped the look of disgust off her face and broke into a grin.

"Good morning. It's okay, I needed to get up anyways!"

"That's why I'm here, actually. All of us are on the patio enjoying some brunch and mimosa's if you two would care to join us. It's a beautiful day," she smiled, swaying back in forth in her sundress.

"Does that sound good to ya, honeybun?" LaSalle asked, tilting his head her direction. Sonja felt her stomach jump at his choice of words.

"Sure does. We'll be down in a minute or two."

"Fabulous! I'll save you both some of the _divine_ spinach casserole I prepared myself." Her eyes swept over LaSalle with a bite of her lip. "You'll fall in love with it, I'm sure."

Sonja balled her hand into a fist underneath the covers.

"Great. We better get dressed then, I suppose," LaSalle politely replied, in the hopes she would make her exit.

"Of course. See you soon!" she placed her sunglasses over her eyes before reaching out and touching LaSalle's bicep. "And for heaven's sake, call me _Jan_ ," she giggled. Mrs. Livingston then gave a small wave directed at Sonja as she flipped around and continued down the hallway.

Sonja flopped backward into the pillows.

"I hate her so much," she growled.

LaSalle laughed as he shut the door.

"She's a nice lady. What's got ya so heated?"

Sonja huffed loudly.

" _You know!_ She was totally coming onto you. Doesn't she have any dignity?"

"Apparently not. It's harmless flirtin' anyway, Percy. Don't let her bother ya."

" ' _Oh, Ryan!' 'Forgive me, Ryan!' 'You'll just fall in love with it, Ryan!"_ Sonja imitated, her voice rising several levels as she gestured absurdly.

LaSalle retrieved new clothes from his suitcase and sauntered past the king size bed, eyes twinkling.

"If I didn't know any better, I would say _someone_ is jealous."

Sonja sat up and crossed her arms, eyebrows firmly set.

"I am _not_ jealous. I'm your wife. Deal with it." She held up her hand and wiggled her ring finger for emphasis.

"And a mighty fine job you're doin', might I add," he commended, resting his back against the doorframe of the bathroom.

"Thanks. You're not so bad, yourself."

LaSalle pretended to catch himself from falling.

"Was that a _compliment_ I just heard, Sonja Percy?"

"Shut and up and put some clothes on. I can't take you seriously like this," she ordered, deflecting the question as she hopped out of bed.

He shook his head with a smile.

"Boy _,_ you _sure_ gotta way with words."

"Oh, and LaSalle?" she added.

"Yeah?"

"Never call me 'honeybun' _again_!"

…

Sonja was in the bathroom cleaning herself up and getting ready for the day as her thoughts from the previous night began to pester her. Had she _really_ admitted she was in love with LaSalle? The idea had never crossed her mind until now and she never in a million years thought it would. Maybe the jetlag had a nasty effect on her and got her brain frazzled, or maybe it was the sangrias and the night-cap she should have never agreed to drink. _Whatever_ the culprit was, she wasn't prepared to openly declare anything at the moment. However, she couldn't deny her feelings to herself any longer, and wouldn't. Sonja had lived in denial about one too many things in her life and she wasn't going to let this situation create another notch on her list. Love can be an extremely complicated riddle to crack, and that required much more time than she had to spare. Amber Matthew's murderer remained on the loose and she and LaSalle were no closer to finding him than they were a few days ago. If the undercover operation happened to fall through, and the Livingston's _weren't_ involved in Amber's death, the NCIS team would be left with no new leads, and more importantly, a grieving family with no answers.

Sonja slipped on her final accessories, a few bangles and a necklace, as she exited the bathroom and joined LaSalle at the bedroom door. She appraised his looks with a laugh.

"Okay, if you thought you looked like a Ken doll before, you really _do_ look like a Ken doll now."

He glared, adjusting his sleeves.

"Ha. Ha. Ha."

"I'm sorry, I meant a Ken doll 'Bama Boy' edition."

"Does it really look _that_ bad?"

LaSalle was dressed in a pair of khaki shorts fitted with a brown leather belt. His white and navy plaid shirt was adequately tucked in and his collar was pressed. The outfit was finished off with a navy jacket and a white pocket square. His dress shoes were brown and freshly polished.

Sonja shrugged.

"It's not bad. I think I just miss seeing you in your jeans and Henley's."

"Yeah. You and me both," he smiled. "So, this is alright? I don't need to change?"

"No, you look… good."

"Just 'good'?"

She hit his arm.

"I don't know, LaSalle! What do you want me to say? That you look 'handsome' or something?"

"Handsome?" he pondered, strutting around scratching his chin. "It must be my lucky day, the compliments just keep _rollin'_ in. First I'm a good husband and now I'm _handsome._ " He sent her a mischievous grin.

"I have a 'two compliment per day' limit so don't get yourself too excited," Sonja replied, crossing her arms and turning away.

"I'm just kiddin' ya, Sonja. I appreciate it, really," he chuckled. "You look good too."

Sonja nervously cleared her throat, her nails digging into her arm. Her outfit consisted of a yellow polka-dotted white shirt with quarter length sleeves and a crisp collar. Over that, was overalls in a dark wash that cuffed up at her ankles. For shoes, she chose a pair of matte white pumps. Her hair was thrown back in a ponytail and her makeup was light and effortless with daytime tones. Her jewelry completed the look.

"It was the most casual thing I could find," she whispered. "All these outfits are a bit girly for my taste."

"I know. I bet wearin' all those heels must be killin' ya."

She laughed. "Very true. At least I've had practice before now or I would be tripping all over the damn place."

"You look like a seasoned pro, Sonja," he smiled, patting her arm. "You ain't got nothin' to worry about. Half those women _clearly_ have no idea how to dress themselves. That's why they're so taken away with you," he winked.

"You mean _you_ , right? I hope they can control their drool this time."

Sonja popped open the door and followed LaSalle out into the hallway.

"You can't blame them for noticin' an Adonis when they see one!"

"Mhm, how about you just keep your head on straight Lover Boy, and get the job done so we can get out of here and hop a plane tonight. I never knew I could miss New Orleans so much."

"No joke, this place ain't nothin' like home. I hope Mr. Livingston won't have a problem answerin' a few questions."

"If he does, then we'll know we got our guy."

As they neared the entrance of the French doors leading to the patio, LaSalle draped an arm around Sonja and pulled her in close, his lip to her ear.

"We wouldn't even be able to _stay_ another night because you probably wouldn't let me back in that bed for a second time, would ya?"

"Ha! You're crazy."

"That's what I thought."

…

"There you are! I was beginning to think you two had quietly slipped away," Jan Livingston exclaimed as she delicately wiped her mouth with a napkin and rose from her seat.

"And miss out on your famous spinach casserole? I don't think so, Ma'am," LaSalle smiled, dropping his arm around Sonja's shoulders to her waist.

Mrs. Livingston hurried over to a tray of mimosas garnished with a peach slice. She selected two glasses and took them over to LaSalle and Sonja, placing one in their free hands.

"The cuisine this afternoon is fabulous, I do hope you both try everything."

"We saved you a seat at our table Ryan, and you as well Alicia," Mr. Livingston gestured across from him, a short glass of liquor in his hand. As far as Sonja could see, he wore white pants fashioned with a black sweater with a blue argyle print and baby blue collar. His black hair was once again swept back, but this time held in place by a white visor. His mouth was set in a grin.

"Thank you, we're sorry to have kept everyone waiting," Sonja replied as she and LaSalle sat in the empty seats offered at the dining table.

"It's okay, darling. There's still plenty of time to socialize," Lorraine, one of Jan's many friends, consoled with a wink.

Mr. and Mrs. Livingston had already had their plates removed from the table and replaced with fresh drinks as the rest of the guests finished up the entrée's. LaSalle munched on a piece of bacon while Sonja took a few bites of a fruit salad.

"Does everything taste to your satisfaction? If not, I'm sure our cooks can prepare something else," Mrs. Livingston inquired, directing the question at LaSalle who was seated across from her.

He shook his head. "It all tastes very well to me, thanks. The casserole was fantastic."

She beamed. "Excellent!"

Sonja caught herself from glaring.

"Alicia, I'm sure we already talked about it last night but _how_ did you say you and your husband met? I'm so forgetful," Macy, the woman with the red bob, called from further down the table.

"We never asked her, you dimwit," another woman piped in.

"Of course we did! Don't raise your voice at me, Barbara."

"Ladies! Please, _please._ Let's remain civilized, at least while you're a guest at our house, shall we?" Mrs. Livingston spoke up.

Her friends gave a silent nod.

"So? How _did_ you fine folks meet?" Mrs. Livingston smiled, a straw between her lips. Her eyes landed on Sonja's.

"Oh my gosh…Wow, it was so long ago wasn't it, Ryan?" Sonja laughed, discreetly laying on hand on LaSalle's leg and squeezing for help.

"You got that right. It must be about five years ago, now," LaSalle added, smiling at Sonja. Her heart began to pick up a pace as she constructed a story.

"How long have you been married, then? Five?" Lorraine asked.

"Three," LaSalle and Sonja replied in unison.

The table erupted in giggles.

"Awe, young love," Mr. Livingston sighed, sipping his drink. "Go on. Tell us all the enticing tale of how you two fell for each other and never looked back."

The pair locked eyes for a brief moment as Sonja opened her mouth to explain the fabricated story before she felt LaSalle pat her on the leg and suddenly begin talking. She clamped her mouth shut, staring at him in shock. As soon as she realized her expression didn't fit the situation, she softened, and continued to gaze at him.

"It's nothin' special, really. I was supposed to meet up with my buddy's for dinner one night when they cancelled on me last minute. So there I was, dressed nice and alone in the middle of New Orleans around eight o'clock at night with nowhere to go, but home. I was a pretty lonely guy, before I met Alicia," he gestured her direction, "and the thought of goin' home and starin' at the TV again was quite unappealin'. I remembered a jazz club had recently opened downtown and decided to check it out, hopin' their beer would be worth waitin' in a long line for. What I _didn't_ plan on was catchin' a glimpse of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen makin' her way onto the dance floor with a couple of her friends." There was a few gasps from the women at the table who were completely enthralled with the story. Sonja's mouth had gone dry.

"I was sittin' at the bar with a drink in my hand, just watchin' her and her friends spin around and act like goofballs. She had the most _perfect_ smile on her face. A smile like I've never seen before. Her clothes weren't flashy or nothin'. If I remember right, she wore a really pretty halter dress and jacket. Instead of heels she chose boots. Her hair was down. In that moment, I _knew_ if I didn't get up and go over there and talk with her my chance would be over. I'd blow it. So I swallowed my pride and made my way over. She was a bit weary at first, I was just some random guy at a club, but once we introduced ourselves we immediately hit it off. There was an undeniable spark. It was safe to say, by the end of the night, we were hooked. We've been inseparable ever since. Being married to her is greatest joy of my life." LaSalle was smiling, his eyes bright. He glanced over at Sonja who was gaping at him, the world as she knew it, almost completely forgotten. His foot nudged her own. She cleared her throat, taking a long sip of her mimosa. She sat it down as she clasped his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, that story just gets to me every time! Isn't he the sweetest?"

The other women at the table were dabbing their eyes with their napkins, Lorraine had excused herself to use the restroom. Mrs. Livingston was biting her lip, a fresh tear rolling down her cheek. She patted it away with her fingers.

"Well, Ryan, for a story that is supposedly not very special, it may be the most eloquent one I have ever heard," she sniffled.

"My God, can you _imagine_ his wedding vows?" Macy mumbled to another guest as she fixed her makeup in a compact mirror.

"Yes, it was truly very touching, Ryan. I'm so delighted for you both! Love like that only comes once in a lifetime," Mr. Livingston announced, clinking his glass against theirs.

Sonja grinned at LaSalle and the rest of the guests even though she felt like melting into a panicked mess. He was practically one more speech away from breaking her cover entirely. Reconstructing the night they shared at the jazz club was a smart yet dangerous thing to do. The sincerity was beyond convincing but Sonja could have choked on her drink or alarmed the guests in many other unpredictable ways. What was he thinking pulling a stunt like that? _And why was his memory of her so vivid?_

Sonja's thoughts were interrupted by one of the housekeepers who scooped up her empty plate and replaced it with a small bowl of berry sorbet.

"Do you two have any children?" a woman asked.

"No, we don't," Sonja politely smiled, taking a bite of her dessert.

"Well that's a shame."

"I'm sure we'll have two or three as the years go on," LaSalle winked, taking a drink.

"I was thinking more like _one_." Sonja laughed trying hard not to glare.

"Don't have a fight, darlings! You're young. Time is on your side," Mrs. Livingston reassured.

"She's right, sweet pea. Even if we end up with no little ones I'll still be just as happy with you by my side." LaSalle rubbed his arm against hers with a grin. _Sweet pea? These nicknames have to stop._

Sonja downed the rest of her mimosa in the hopes that someone would quickly change the subject. Her prayers were answered.

"It seems as if everyone has finished their meal, if I am correct. And if that's the case, the boys and I were wondering if you ladies would excuse us as we participate in a game of golf this lovely evening," Mr. Livingston explained.

" _Golf?_ " Sonja inquired, sharing a puzzled glance with LaSalle.

"Yes, Alicia. On business days I typically like to warm up with a game of golf to get the creative juices flowing. It's an ice-breaker, of sorts."

"Ryan doesn't have any equipment with him."

"That's perfectly fine! Lawrence has spare clubs and other necessary golfing items in our basement. They were gifts," Mrs. Livingston smiled.

Mr. Livingston and the other guests had already removed themselves from the dining table and were collecting their bags. The men leaned down to kiss their wives goodbye. Matilda, the head housekeeper, materialized in front of the French doors with a key.

"Your personal vehicle has been brought to the front of the house, Mr. Livingston. It's ready for you and your guests."

He smiled. "Well done, Matilda. You're always so prompt. Do you mind calling the others to help handle our bags?"

"No problem at all, sir."

She left for only a brief moment before the rest of the staff appeared and took the bags from the men. Mr. Livingston turned toward the table.

"Ryan? Aren't you coming?"

Sonja took his hand.

"Do you mind if I have a word with my husband before you take off? It'll only take a minute."

He paused.

"Of course. We'll be in the car." Mr. Livingston smiled and put his arm around one of the men as they flipped toward the door to exit.

Sonja, still holding LaSalle's hand, drug him to his feet and led him a few feet away from the dining table until they were out of earshot from the ladies.

"What do you make of this? Is it a trap?" she asked, anxiously crossing her arms.

LaSalle appeared calm.

"I'm not sure. I don't think they would kidnap someone in the light of day, but I could be wrong."

"What if they're taking you somewhere to kill you, LaSalle? You don't have a weapon on you to defend yourself. I don't like this."

"You think they're separatin' us for a reason?"

"They could be. Why does Mr. Livingston keep delaying the business meeting? What's he waiting for?"

"Apparently he's not done checkin' me out, yet. Maybe he has a few more questions he wants to ask in a casual setting?"

Sonja sighed.

"I guess that's a possibility, but are you willing to bank on your _life_? I won't be there to help you."

"You'll be here askin' everythin' you need to and I'll be doin' the same. Separatin' _them_ could work to our advantage just as much as them separatin' _us_. We'll meet up later and compare our info."

"So you want to do this? You're sure?" Sonja stared deeply into his eyes, slightly shaken.

"I'm sure. I'll be okay, City Mouse. I got this," he smiled.

Suddenly becoming aware of their closeness, she realized they had never let go of each other's hand. As a moment passed and LaSalle pulled away to leave, she squeezed his hand in an effort to make him turn around. While doing so, Sonja abandoned all known morals and leaned forward, slowly and carefully. LaSalle seemed taken aback at the entire situation until her soft lips pressed against his. She wasn't sure what she was doing, and he didn't seem to complain, as her hand left his and journeyed upwards past his stomach, and to chest, as she took hold of his collar. He responded to her touch by wrapping his arm around her waist to splay his hand across her lower back. He brought her even closer, if it were possible, until there was no space left between them. Then their lips began to part, reluctantly, as her deep brown eyes caught his. Their breathing was heavy.

"Be careful."

She meant her voice to sound strong and directive, but it somehow only came out as a breathless whisper.

He nodded, his expression softening into a loving gaze. The corner of his mouth curled into a knowing smile. _He'd only been waiting for this moment for three months._ He lifted his hand to caress her cheek.

"Don't get soft on me, now."

Sonja bit her lip to suppress a laugh.

"I'm not soft. I care about you, you idiot."

He chuckled. "Yeah, I've kinda been figurin' that out lately."

"Well, um," Sonja cleared her throat, "you better get going before Mr. Livingston sends a search party for you."

"Alright then. You be careful, too. Partner."

She was used to LaSalle calling her by that name on plenty of occasions, but for some reason, the word had taken on a whole new meaning in a matter of seconds.

"Send me a text if anything goes wrong."

His hand dropped away from her back as she released his collar, stepping to the side to let him pass. The warmth he had provided her body was dwindling, a chill rushed over her skin in his absence. She took in a deep breath and walked back to the dining table to rejoin the women in their conversation.

"My Lord, Alicia. What was with the passionate goodbye?" Mrs. Livingston inquired, propping her sunglasses on her head.

"You act as if he's going off to war! It's just _golf,_ darling," Lorraine chuckled. The rest of the women bubbled over with laughter.

"He'll be _fine._ The worst thing that could happen out there is getting hit in the head with a golf ball!"

"Or a club. You do know how much they drink," Macy snickered as she reclined in her chair.

"Is that what you're so worried about? Ryan getting injured?" another woman asked.

Sonja sat down in her previous seat and motioned the bartender for another round.

"Yeah," she replied. "Something like that."

…

"So what do you do for a job, Alicia? Is the art business a part-time situation?"

"It was always part-time, for me, because Amber was the head of the gallery. Ryan was her partner. Since her death, our responsibilities for the gallery have shifted. Now he's the boss and I'm the partner. I usually work as a yoga instructor."

" _Yoga?_ How fascinating. I've been meaning to sign up for a class sometime," Mrs. Livingston commented.

"I thought you might be involved in athletics the moment I laid eyes on you. Your body is truly impressive," Macy nodded.

"I noticed that as well. But I just assumed it was because…" Lorraine trailed off, a smile playing on her lips. The women noticed and busted up with laughter. Sonja was clueless.

"Assumed it was because of _what_?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"All the- um," Lorraine cleared her throat, " _activity_ you get at home."

"I don't know what you mean."

Mrs. Livingston scoffed.

"She _means_ she thinks you have that body because you and your husband are always in bed."

Everyone fell back in the chairs with laughter. Sonja turned bright red.

"Wh- _excuse_ me? No we aren't! I mean- not _all_ the time," she sputtered, nearly knocking over her drink.

"Please, Alicia. There's no need to be modest. If our husbands still looked as good as yours we would _never_ leave our beds. Am I right, ladies?"

They nodded in agreement.

"I'm telling you the truth! We're just a- normal married couple with a _normal_ sex life."

"By 'normal' you mean you have sex every night, right?" Macy giggled.

Sonja wanted to vomit. _What in the hell was wrong with them?_ Here she was trying to defend her and LaSalle's nonexistentsex life without them having known just an hour ago they had their first kiss. A _real_ kiss, not pretend, and not as Ryan and Alicia Matthews as though it had appeared. Sonja was reeling and the inappropriate questions from the women were not making her feel any better.

"We don't!"

"Okay, maybe not. But what about _last_ night?" another woman winked.

"What about it?"

"Brunch was nearly over by the time you two showed up," Lorraine said.

"I accidentally slept in, it was my fault."

"I think we _all_ know whose fault it is, don't we?" Macy cackled.

Sonja pressed her palm to her forehead in exasperation.

"Okay, ladies. That's enough. Can't you see she's beyond uncomfortable?" Mrs. Livingston scolded.

"Thank God," Sonja mumbled, slurping down her second drink.

"Fair enough. New topic. How do you all think this business deal will go tonight? If your husband doesn't want the painting, Jan, _my_ husband certainly seems interested," a woman remarked.

"Oh, please. You know we aren't supposed to talk about business," Mrs. Livingston glared.

"What's the harm? None of the men are around to hear."

"How much is the painting going for anyway? Do you know, Alicia?"

All heads turned to Sonja.

"I'm not sure on the _exact_ dollar amount, but I'd say well over a million," she fibbed. Sonja thought this was the perfect time to monitor reactions and slip in any questions she desired.

"Oh my. That's promising," a woman uttered.

"I wonder if my husband has put a bid on it yet," Macy whispered to another woman.

"Shush, everyone! Whatever you have to say or ask doesn't matter. Lawrence has everything under control."

Mrs. Livingston appeared on edge. She swiftly covered her face with her sunglasses and snapped her fingers for another drink. Sonja couldn't help her eyes from narrowing. _I need to get her alone tonight and ask her some questions. She's definitely hiding something._ The way things were looking, no more questions about the painting _or_ business would be accepted in Mrs. Livingston's presence, and Sonja wasn't going to risk blowing her cover.

…

The afternoon quickly transformed into the evening and the men didn't return to the estate until six o'clock. Sonja spent most of the time pacing around her and LaSalle's room with her cell phone glued to her hand. She thought a game of golf would only take a couple hours, but when no one returned, she began to panic and had to discreetly excuse herself from the festivities on the patio for a 'nap'. The moment the door to her room opened, and LaSalle stepped though, a huge sigh of relief left her lungs.

"Where the hell _were_ you guys? And why didn't you text me?"

LaSalle threw a sports bag onto the floor and collapsed on the couch. He ran his fingers through his hair.

"You're tellin' me. Mr. Livingston decided we needed to go to a club after we finished our game. I'm exhausted and we haven't even _started_ the business portion of our day."

Sonja crossed her arms.

"A _club?_ I thought you were dead, LaSalle!"

"I'm sorry! I never got a chance to text ya. It's my fault, Percy," he replied. His eyes were as soft as they were earlier today and Sonja could feel her anger slowly melting. She relaxed.

"It's okay. I'm just glad you're back."

He smiled.

"So did ya get any information from the ladies?"

"It was a complete bust. They all tried discussing the painting but Mrs. Livingston freaked out on everybody and shut the whole thing down. There's something up with her but I don't know what."

"Should I go work my magic and get some answers outta her?" he winked.

"I don't think so." Sonja rolled her eyes. "I'll go find her in a little bit."

"Suit yourself."

"What about Mr. Livingston? Anything new with him?"

"He just kept talkin' about how excited he is for the meetin' tonight. He kept sayin' how much the paintin' means to him."

"How much it means to him? How?"

"He wouldn't say anythin' except he's been waitin' a long time for it."

Sonja hummed. "Interesting. Is everyone having dinner before the meeting?"

"Mr. Livingston told me that there wouldn't be any 'formal dining' tonight because of the meetin'. We're supposed to order somethin' and have it brought up to the room."

"Good. I've had about enough of these dinner parties," she grumbled.

"I've had enough of these people, _period._ I'm ready to get the hell outta here."

"Me too. Are you hungry? Should we eat?"

"Yeah, we can do that. Order whatever sounds good to ya and I'll just have a burger and fries."

She laughed. "I bet the kitchen has never prepared _that_ kind of meal here before."

"First time for everythin'," he grinned.

Sonja turned away to conceal a blush flushing over her cheeks at the memory of their kiss. Without skipping a beat and making things awkward, she grabbed the nearest phone and dialed the kitchen. LaSalle's grin was widening as he watched her twirl the cord. She motioned to shoo him away.

"You've reached the kitchen. What can we do for you tonight?"

"Hello, this is Mr. and Mrs. Matthews. We'd like to place an order."

…

LaSalle's belly was satisfyingly full and clothes changed as he checked his watch for the time.

"Sonja, it's seven-thirty. I need to head downstairs," he called.

"Wait a minute!" she replied, shutting off the faucet to the sink.

Sonja emerged from the bathroom in shorts and a t-shirt with her hair down. Her face was clean of makeup. LaSalle stood to greet her.

"Okay," she breathed, slowly meandering towards him in the center of the room. "What's the plan?"

"Mr. Livingston said the meetin' should only take a couple hours at the most. I'm just gonna go in, explain the paintin', and ask some questions. If he wants to buy it, I'll just sell it to him. Hopefully I'll gain his trust. Then maybe we'll finally get to the bottom of what happened to Amber."

"You really think it'll be that simple?"

"I haven't seen any suspicious behavior from him to make me think otherwise."

"I don't know, LaSalle. This seems too easy."

"Well, what did Mrs. Livingston say when you confronted her downstairs after dinner?"

"She didn't say a word worth listening to. She just pushed me out of the way and said Lorraine was waiting for her outside. God, she's annoying."

LaSalle nodded as he pondered the situation.

"I gotta do this, Percy. It's now or never. I'll take my phone with me and dial ya if things get shifty. I promise."

"You're not going to take your _weapon_? You're going to walk in there unarmed?"

"We've _been_ walkin' around unarmed this whole time. Besides, I don't know if he's gonna have someone pat me down before things get rollin'. If I get caught with a gun it's game over."

Sonja tiredly rubbed her face. With a sigh, she crossed her arms and rigidly stood in front of him.

"Obviously I can't change your mind. I just don't know what I'll do if you walk into that building and never come out." She shook her head and titled her chin downward, unable to look him in the eye.

The room fell to a stillness as the ticking of a clock continued on, a remembrance that time doesn't stop for anyone. Suddenly, the silence was broken with the sound of footsteps carefully approaching in Sonja's direction. She didn't lift her head or move away as the sensation of his body presented itself only inches from her. In an instant, his arms gently wrapped themselves around her. He gathered her close, until her cheek was smashed against his chest and his chin settled itself on top of her head. Her arms that were once stubbornly crossed, unfolded themselves, and wrapped around him as her palms spread onto his back. She felt his chest rise and fall in a deep sigh. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"It's gonna be okay, Sonja. I'm gonna come back." his voice was low but reassuring.

"You don't know that," she muttered, breathing in his scent. "I won't know if you're in trouble."

"You're right, you won't. You just gotta _trust_ me. Can ya do that?" his head titled in an attempt to look at her face.

"I trust you, LaSalle. I don't trust them."

"I know. I don't either. All we need to have is a little faith that everythin' will work out, for Amber's sake. For her family. They're countin' on us."

"I understand. Just _try_ to stay alive, would you? Don't do anything stupid."

His chest shook with laughter.

"Alright. It's a deal."

He sneakily placed a quick kiss on the top of her head and took her shoulders as he stepped backward. His smile was warm as he got a full view of her face. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at his loving demeanor.

"Okay, okay. Enough of this mushy stuff. Go kick some ass, Bama Boy. I'll be waiting by my phone."

"You got it! Let's end this."

…

Mr. Livingston, LaSalle, and the rest of the men met outside in front of the smaller building next to the garages where the meeting was to proceed. The moon took its rightful place in the sky leaving the estate pitch-black with the exception of a few yard lights.

Mr. Livingston pulled out a key and unlocked the office, switching on a light.

"Gentlemen, if you would be so kind as to follow me in. The painting in question is in the back room."

The men murmured amongst themselves while LaSalle kept his hands in his pockets with a smile.

"Do ya usually have business meetin's at night or is this a special occasion?" LaSalle inquired, sliding past a few people.

"It just depends on what I have planned. Today I thought it would be more enjoyable to have a day out and save business matters for nighttime." Mr. Livingston looked over his shoulder at LaSalle with a smirk.

The group of men stopped at another door in the middle of the wall in the room as Mr. Livingston unlocked it. He ushered them to keep following as he switched on more lights. The door led down a long hallway with yet another door at the end.

"I apologize for the long walk, everyone. Valuables must be kept in the back of the building."

As they strolled upon the door, Mr. Livingston took out another key to undo a padlock. LaSalle felt his heartbeat quicken.

The door flung open and a light illuminated the small space which consisted of a simple desk and chair, shelves of objects, and a covered painting on the wall, which everyone gathered around.

Mr. Livingston stepped to the side and motioned LaSalle to come forward. _This was it._

"Well, now, Mr. Matthew's. I believe it is finally time to present your artwork. Please explain as much as you can in detail, I'm sure these gentlemen are equally as excited as I, to hear _every_ word."

LaSalle nodded, politely smiling, as he removed the paper from the canvas. Taking a deep breath, he glued his eyes to the painting as he desperately searched his mind for the information he studied a few days earlier. When the knowledge rushed back to him, he opened his mouth and began to spin his tale with the hopes that he could have the men easily convinced without breaking his cover.

…

The men and Mr. Livingston seemed enthralled with LaSalle's speech as they crossed and uncrossed their arms, nodded, and shifted their weight from one heel to another. As soon as he finished, they clapped and graciously shook LaSalle's hand, while spewing various compliments about the piece of artwork.

"Excellent! Marvelous. Well done, Ryan," Mr. Livingston winked.

"I'm glad it met everyone's expectations," LaSalle grinned. "Are ya interested in purchasin' it, Mr. Livingston?"

Mr. Livingston glanced at the group of men with a raised eyebrow.

"What about _you_ , men? Anyone interested in this fantastic painting?"

The group of men looked at one another.

"I don't know, Lawrence. I have a feeling I can't afford it," one man spoke.

"I feel the same, unfortunately. It's a beautiful piece, though, Mr. Matthews," another added.

"Roger? What about you?" Mr. Livingston asked, nudging him with his shoe.

"I really want to place a bid on it, I _know_ Macy wants me to, but it's just too much of a risk. I have to decline."

"Anyone else?" Mr. Livingston hollered.

The rest of the men in the room shook their heads.

"Well, Ryan, it looks as if you're stuck with me," he grinned, clasping LaSalle on his back. LaSalle had an uneasy feeling rising in his stomach but ignored it as the men shook his hand for a final time.

"Do you gentlemen care if I stay behind and go over a few things with Mr. Matthews, here? It won't take but a minute. Please enjoy the rest of your night! We'll join you later for drinks."

The men nodded and made their exit out the door and into the hallway. Mr. Livingston shut the door behind them. He turned around to LaSalle with a smile lingering on his face.

"I have some paperwork prepared at the desk if you'd care to take a look? I had everything written up in advance. Those boys aren't too good at playing ball, if you know what I mean," he chuckled, pulling back the chair for LaSalle to sit.

LaSalle obliged him and sat as he scooped up the papers spread out in front of him. His brow began to furrow as he read through the contracts pertaining to the painting and how the money was to be transferred.

"Does everything look to your liking?" he heard Mr. Livingston inquire from behind.

"Uh- sure. Of course. Do ya mind if I ask you a few questions after we finish this?"

As LaSalle was waiting for an answer, the clicking sound of a door opening and oncoming footsteps filled the room. He assumed the men had decided to rejoin them.

"I don't mind, Ryan," Mr. Livingston replied. "As long as you answer _my_ questions, first."

Before LaSalle could process his response, a masculine arm looped itself around his neck and squeezed. Dropping the papers, he began to choke, scratching and clawing at the arm as he thrashed his body in a frenzy. LaSalle craned his neck back to get a look at his attacker, but all he could see from his current position was a pair of heated brown eyes and a beard. He pushed back from the desk with all the strength he could muster, the chair rolling into the abdomen of the assailant. The man only loosened his grip for mere seconds until he discarded the chair and lifted LaSalle in the air, by his neck, with a harsh grunt. The oxygen in LaSalle's lungs was depleting at an alarming rate, and his vision was beginning to blur as his kicking legs eventually swung to a stop. The last conscious thought running through his mind was the promise he made to Sonja. He promised that everything would be okay, he promised he would come back…

…

His head was pounding, practically _drumming_ a beat into the sides of his temples. Blood was rushing back, oxygen refilling, senses recovering. His eyelids fluttered open as his vision attempted to adjust to the lighting in the environment. He was looking downward at the ground, which happened to be a cement floor, the same one he remembered before everything went dark. He exhaled, running his tongue over his dry lips. As he slowly lifted his head, he winced at the soreness reverberating throughout his neck. A bright light hit him in the face, causing him to quickly turn away, hitting his jaw on something hard. Using peripheral vision and twisting his neck as far as it could go, he saw the object he hit was the wooden back of a chair. _The chair_. He was sitting at the desk in the office building before everything went crazy and someone grabbed him. He looked down at his arms and finally noticed they were tied to the arms of that particular chair, and looking down further, he saw his legs were tied to the chair as well. Raising his head, he looked outward, and saw the outlines of several individuals in the shadows of the room. The spot light was focused on him which obstructed his view, making it impossible to identify who the men were. However, when LaSalle turned his attention to the location of the desk, his saw a familiar shape of a man sitting on top of it. When the man caught sight of LaSalle staring, he jumped off the desk with a chuckle, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He then took his time swaggering towards him, whispering to another man in the room. In the next moment, paused for a final time in the shadows until he stepped forward into the light with a smirk. LaSalle glared.

" _Livingston._ What in the hell do ya think you're doin?"

Mr. Livingston snapped his fingers and a man stepped forward into the light. LaSalle didn't recognize him as any of the businessmen. He swung a punch across LaSalle's face, causing the chair to rock with force.

"I believe I mentioned something about asking _questions_ , didn't I, Mr. Matthews?" he stepped closer until he was directly in front of LaSalle. "And that's exactly what I intend to do. Until it's your turn, I suggest you watch your mouth."

LaSalle spat blood onto the floor, his eyes narrowing.

"Now then," Mr. Livingston continued, pacing back and forth in the light, "let's just jump right into it. How did you and your sister acquire the painting? How did that transaction come about?"

"I know my sister told ya all about that. Why would my answer be any different?"

"Because," Mr. Livingston stated, "I need to see if either of you _lied_."

"Lied? Why in the hell would we do somethin' like that?"

Mr. Livingston snapped his fingers again and LaSalle was met with a blow into the stomach. The chair rocked backward as he gasped.

"For God's sake, _I_ am asking the questions!" he exclaimed, stomping to a halt. "Now answer them!"

"Okay, okay," LaSalle complied. "We bought it off a guy a few months back."

"Does this 'guy' have a name?"

LaSalle desperately thought back through his pages of notes he studied on the airplane as precious seconds ticked by. He quickly replied as Mr. Livingston was raising his fingers to snap.

"Mr. Dover! A guy named John Dover."

"Excellent," he smiled. "Your sister told me the same."

"Then what's the problem? Why am I bein' interrogated?"

Mr. Livingston was silent as he paced back and forth, stealing a few glances at LaSalle as he went by.

"You're aware the painting is a fake, aren't you?"

LaSalle's stomach dropped like lead. _That bit of information wasn't in his notes._

"Judging by your reaction, you either weren't aware or you _were_ and now you're scared what's going to happen next," Mr. Livingston laughed.

"Did my sister know it was a fake?" LaSalle whispered, sweat rolling down his cheek.

"No, actually," he replied, pulling a chair into the light to sit down. "She didn't have a clue."

"How did you know it was fake, then?"

"It is _expertly_ fabricated," he nodded, "don't get me wrong. Any respectable art dealer would assume it to be authentic. However, the real piece of artwork remains at large for over a year now. The one Mr. Dover _stole_ from me."

"He was one of your clients?"

"Yes. And a good friend, so I thought," Mr. Livingston fumed. "The painting was nearly irreplaceable, not to mention worth millions of dollars. It was my prized possession. I told him on dozens of occasions I refused to sell it, but apparently he couldn't take 'no' for an answer. I had him over for drinks one night and in the morning the painting was gone. I tracked him as he fled to several different countries until he disappeared off the grid. Since his absence, he has somehow managed to circulate _hundreds_ of copies of the painting to taunt me with. Every painting I find brings me one step closer to him, and the real artwork I've been so wrongly deprived of."

"I admit, that doesn't sound one bit of a good deal Mr. Livingston, _anyone_ would be angry about somethin' like that. It's completely wrong what he did to ya. But I'm tellin' you, he came to our shop once, sold us the paintin', and that was that. I swear," LaSalle insisted. "We never saw or talked to him again."

"I would believe that, Mr. Matthews," he began, "if your sister hadn't refused to answer more questions and stormed out. I think you can tell me what she could not." Mr. Livingston stood and stopped down to grip LaSalle by the collar, eyes bulging. "I've been patient with you, Ryan, but my patience is quickly running out. I'll only ask this once- _where_ is John Dover?"

LaSalle leaned back. "I don't know! Neither of us had anythin' to do with what happened between ya two. I'm sorry, I don't _know_!"

Mr. Livingston took the liberty of relieving the henchmen of his job and slapped LaSalle himself. He did so over and over again until LaSalle's cheeks were bright red and Mr. Livingston was covered in sweat.

"I don't believe it! You must have a phone number, an email, _something!"_

"I don't! We didn't even know it was a fake. I _swear_ , Mr. Livingston. I can't help ya."

Mr. Livingston ran his hands through his hair, nostrils flaring, and walked into the shadows with a snap of his fingers. Another punch hit LaSalle in the face. He sighed, spitting more blood onto the floor.

"Do ya do this to all your guests? Wine 'em, dine 'em, tie 'em to a chair and beat 'em?"

"Is this a game to you, Mr. Matthews?" Mr. Livingston growled. "You are aware if you don't give me the answers I'm looking for, I will be forcedto move on to your wife, Alicia. Is _that_ something that interests you?"

A switch flicked in LaSalle's mind and suddenly he was balling his hands into fists, gritting his teeth.

"You stay away from Alicia, do ya hear me?" LaSalle yelled, aggressively lunging forward in his chair. "Don't you lay a _hand_ on that woman!"

"You're really in no position to be making _threats_ , are you, Ryan?" Mr. Livingston chuckled, stepping back into the light, his eyes dark. "All you have to do is tell the truth, and you and your wife will leave with your lives intact."

"That's exactly what I've been tryin' to do! For some reason that isn't damn good enough."

Mr. Livingston slammed his hands down on LaSalle's arms and stared him straight into the eye.

"This is your last chance. Tell me everything you know about John Dover's whereabouts or you die."

LaSalle's eye contact didn't waver even when a shock of fear sunk into his heart. His voice was eerily low in the silence of the room.

"I don't have a phone number or an email. I don't know where he is or where he lives. I have _nothin'_ to help ya, Mr. Livingston. I'm sorry."

Mr. Livingston remained nose to nose with LaSalle as several tense seconds passed by until he let go and turned away, storming back into the darkness.

"Very well then," he spoke. "I see you've made your decision."

He began whispering to the men then turned to address LaSalle. "Hugo will take his men and briefly make arrangements at an alternate destination, then come back for you. In that time I hope you make peace before you move into another stage of life."

Mr. Livingston opened the door as the group of hit-men shuffled out. LaSalle groaned, his head flopping back as he struggled against his restraints, his hope dwindling.

"I would be able to make better peace if ya told me what happened to my sister," LaSalle replied, his voice serious. "Whatever ya tell me will just be goin' to my grave with me anyway."

Mr. Livingston stood at the open door for a minute until he shut it and made his way back over to LaSalle, taking a seat in the chair.

"I never intended to kill your sister, Ryan," he said. "We had dinner in my hotel room as we discussed the painting that she brought with her, the same one that sits in this room now. It didn't take long for me to realize it was a fraud, and when I questioned her about it she became very agitated and wanted to cut the meeting short. You can imagine, I found that to be extremely suspicious. However, I remained pleasant and continued to ask her questions about Mr. Dover and other such things, when she abruptly grabbed the painting and said she needed to leave. When I blocked the door, she threatened to call the police if I didn't let her leave or ever attempted to contact her again. I then let her pass, and I saw her take the exit out the back of the hotel. At that point I was unaware if she would _actually_ notify the police or just retreat back to her own hotel- and I wasn't willing to take that chance. I would never get another opportunity to question her, and I knew she had a brother-you- so it wasn't that much of a loss." As he continued the story, LaSalle's lips were pressed firmly together and his palms were clammy. "I had another one of my men, Rafael, follow her to the hotel and take care of her. He told me he left the truck with the painting in it in the parking lot and waited to knock on her door five minutes after she entered the room. It only took a second to put a bullet in her head, the silencer on the weapon was enough to conceal the act. However, he _failed_ to check her pockets, which contained my business card and lead the police back to me, which I tried ever so hard to avoid." Mr. Livingston scoffed. "That was the last job he ever did for me. Collateral damage, right? All I wanted was _one_ painting but ended up with _two_ dead bodies- and now _three._ "

"Three, huh? Is that all?"

"I guess you'll never know," he shrugged.

Mr. Livingston gazed at LaSalle then stood with a smile, patting him on the shoulder.

"Everything worked out well for me in the end, I can't complain. The police believed my alibi, you and your _lovely_ wife wound up on my doorstep. Information is just around the corner. I'm sure Alicia will be easy to persuade."

LaSalle sent him the darkest of glares he could muster.

"All I have to do is briefly interrupt her beauty sleep. I do hope she's having the sweetest of dreams." Mr. Livingston walked over to the door and opened it for himself. "It was nice doing business with you, Mr. Matthews. Good night."

LaSalle was left alone in the dismal office building with newfound evidence seeping into his mind and a sense of urgency running up and down his spine. _Sonja. Oh, God. No._

"Damn it!" he yelled, yanking his body to and fro, slinging himself and the chair all over the place.

The restraints were too tight to undo and he foolishly hadn't brought along a weapon. He felt his cell phone pressing into the back pocket of his jeans as he sat upon it. There was no possible way to reach it. He sighed, eyes turning to the sky. He knew Sonja could handle herself in a fight just as well as he could, but being ambushed in her sleep wouldn't have the odds in her favor. Overall, things weren't looking too good for the pair of NCIS agents, and he had no way to warn her. Time was running out, and Hugo and his men would be back any minute to collect LaSalle and take him God knows where. If he wasn't going to make it out of here alive, that'd be okay, as long as Sonja was safe- and he couldn't guarantee it. All he could do was sit and pray that, by some miracle, Mr. Livingston wouldn't get her too.

…

Sonja had crawled into bed with her cellphone clasped in her hand, unwilling to sit it aside. Pulling the blankets over her bare legs, she pressed the phone against her heart and stared towards the door, ready to jump as soon as she got the signal for danger. As an hour went by with no call or text from LaSalle, she felt her heavy eyelids begin to flutter, coaxing her into sleep. She slowly slid down until her head landed softly on her pillow and the phone fell out of her hand and onto the covers.

Suddenly, a frantic knock sounded and awoke her from sleep, jolting her to sit upward. _LaSalle._

"Who is it?" Sonja yelled, scrambling to find her phone. She picked it up and saw there had been no missed calls or texts. She cursed herself for not staying awake until he safely returned.

"It's me! Mrs. Livingston. I need to speak with you please, it's urgent."

" _Jan?_ " Sonja glanced at the clock at saw it was after nine o'clock. "What's wrong?"

Mrs. Livingston began pounding on the door.

"Alicia, _please._ I'm begging you! Let me come in."

Sonja was rather alarmed at the woman's strange behavior and took no time hopping out of bed and running over to the door. Unlocking it, she pulled it open as Mrs. Livingston breezed past her and into the bedroom. Sonja's eyes went wide.

"I'm so sorry, Alicia, but I have no time to explain," Jan grabbed Sonja by the shoulders, her small frame quivering. "You have to go to the office building and get Ryan out of there. He's in danger."

Sonja's interest was perked but she decided to remain confused until she was certain Mrs. Livingston wasn't trying to break her cover.

"What in the world are you talking about? What danger?"

The woman's eyes filled with tears as she hung her head forward.

"It's _Lawrence,"_ she explained, reinstating eye contact with Sonja. "He's obsessed with that painting and he will do anything to get what he wants and I mean _anything._ Ryan isn't the first man to go into the building and never come out."

Sonja's mouth fell open.

"How is that possible? Is there more than one painting?"

"Yes! There are hundreds of the same painting. Lawrence has been searching for the original for over a year now. So many men have walked through our doors and only a few have made it out. I've had _enough."_

Sonja pulled away from Mrs. Livingston and gripped the roots of her hair, taking in a big breath in disbelief. _Amber must have unknowingly bought a fake. It's beginning to make sense now._

"That bastard," she mumbled. "I _knew_ it."

"What did you say?"

"Why haven't you called the police?!" Sonja exclaimed. "Why is this time any different than the last?"

Mrs. Livingston covered her eyes as a sob escaped her throat.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't want Lawrence to hurt me too." She wiped her nose, sniffling. "You and Ryan are just the sweetest couple I've ever met. It's clear to see you love each other more than anything. I should have said something before now instead of brushing you off earlier. I was scared."

Sonja blinked.

"I refuse to stand by and watch this happen again," she continued. "I know this must be confusing, and I'm sure you're scared too, but I want you to take these keys and get him to safety." Mrs. Livingston shoved the so-called keys into Sonja's hand, squeezing them into her palm. "Get him out and _go._ You don't have much time. I'm sure my husband's men are already on their way, God help him." Mascara ran in a stream down the woman's face. Jan Livingston was truly falling apart.

Judging by the woman's demeanor and overall sincerity, Sonja assumed her intentions to be genuine and not just a ploy to lead her into a trap. In the next second, she transformed from the quiet, charming 'Mrs. Matthews' into NCIS Special Agent 'Sonja Percy'. LaSalle was in imminent danger and Sonja wasn't willing to wait another minute in this room with his life on the line. It was time to go to work.

Snapping into action, she dashed over to her suitcase and snagged a pair of jeans, swiftly dropping her shorts and pulling the pants on.

"Jan, I need you to listen to me closely, do you understand?" she asked, snapping on her jeans while fishing a belt with holsters through the loops.

Mrs. Livingston furrowed a brow.

"What is that you're wearing, Alicia? What are you doing? I told you there isn't much time!"

Sonja tossed the woman her cellphone and she caught it, disconcertedly.

"Go into my contacts and find a name called 'Brody', can you do that?"

"Uh- sure. I- okay," she stuttered, scrolling through the phone.

Sonja finished tucking in her shirt and put on a good pair of shoes. In the next second she threw all the clothes out of her suitcase and lifted a compartment at the bottom of the bag revealing several guns, knives, and ammo. She loaded two revolvers and placed them in the holsters, as she also added extra magazines to her belt. There wasn't much time to bring along anything else.

"I found the name. What now?" Mrs. Livingston announced, holding the phone up for Sonja to see. The moment she caught sight of weapons around Sonja's waist she gasped, dropping the phone and covering her mouth.

Sonja quickly tied her hair back and scooped up the phone, typing out a message.

' _ **No time to explain. We need backup ASAP.**_ _'_

Clicking send, Sonja prayed her message would reach Brody without any hassle, and she and LaSalle would be walking out of there without a scratch.

"What in the- why do you have _guns?_ " Mrs. Livingston exclaimed, stepping back. "Who _are_ you?"

"I hope I'll be able to explain that to you sometime, Jan, but now isn't that time."

Sonja stuffed the keys in her front pocket and her cellphone into back pocket. She then took hold of the woman's arm and tugged her out the door and down the hallway at a brisk pace. Mrs. Livingston struggled in Sonja's grasp as they made their way down the stairs and into the foyer. Sonja held her in place as she removed the cellphone from her pocket and thrust it into the woman's hands.

"I need you to gather everyone you can and head to the basement. When you get there, I want you to lock the door and be as quiet as possible no matter what you hear. You don't come out of the room under any circumstance, unless it's the police. Do you understand?" Sonja's eyes were intent as she stared into Mrs. Livingston's.

The woman nodded, wordless.

"I want you to take my phone in case the person named 'Brody' calls or texts back. If that is case, all you have to do is give your name and mine and say you need the police at your residence. Do you think you can do that?"

"Yes," she muttered, somewhat in shock.

"Good. If I find out you or any other person at this estate has fled the premises I promise I will find you and arrest you. Understand?"

"Understood," came the woman's meek voice.

"Alright. Now _go_ and do what I asked. I have to find LaSalle."

Mrs. Livingston's expression appeared puzzled amongst her fear and the mention of an unknown name, but nevertheless, she followed orders and ran down the hall calling for her housekeepers.

Sonja flew out the front door and into the night, blind to any dangers that may be lurking in the shadows. She pulled the gun from her holster and held it close, sliding against the mansion's exterior, until she came to the end of the building and spotted the small office space over-lit by a yard light a few yards to the left. She waited a moment to listen for oncoming footsteps or voices, but when all she received was silence, she parted ways with the mansion and slunk to the office, until she dashed through the light in order to remain unseen. In the darkness, she yanked on the door to check to see if it was locked. After finding out it in fact was, she removed the keys from her pocket and tried every single one until the lock turned and the door opened. Slipping into the building, she quietly shut the door behind her and found she was in a small, dimly lit room. She couldn't find any trace of LaSalle and decided to unlock the door in the middle of the wall, which took several tries with different keys. Opening the door, she was met with a narrow hallway after turning on the lights. She left the door unlocked as she gripped her gun and ran down the hall, eventually coming face to face with another door. The office building wasn't large which made Sonja assume this to be the only door left in her path. It took another moment to locate the correct key to unlock the final door, and Sonja was becoming anxious that Mr. Livingston or his henchmen would coming charging down the hall at any second. When the lock clicked, she took in a deep breath and dropped the keys, tossing the stainless steel door open. Unaware of what the room may contain, she took her gun in both hands and pointed it straight ahead, awaiting a foe to make his move. Sonja stared into the space which was entirely dark for the exception of a spotlight positioned in the center of the room. Underneath the light was a man who appeared tied to a chair and was slightly battered, sporting a swollen left eye, cuts and bruises, and a bloody lip. His head was titled to the side and eyes closed as if he were sleeping. Sonja nearly dropped her gun in shock when she identified him.

" _LaSalle!_ Oh my God!"

She stuffed her gun back in its holster and ran over to him, grabbing the ties around his wrist to inspect them. She tugged on the restraints strapped onto his wrists and ankles until they were loose enough for him to wiggle out of, and then brought her attention to his face. Sonja placed her palms on either side of his cheeks and rubbed his skin with her thumbs. His breathing was shallow.

"LaSalle, can you hear me?" she asked, eyes threatening to fill with tears. He stirred at the sound of her voice in close proximity but refused to awaken. She bit her lip, head whipping over her shoulder to check for any company. The coast was clear but she had a feeling that wouldn't last much longer.

"Christopher, _please_ , I need you to wake up. I can't carry you out of here by myself," she whispered in desperation, forehead landing on his chest. After what Sonja guessed to be any eternity, she felt movement beneath her face and a low grumble emit from LaSalle's throat. She gasped, snapping upward, taking his shoulders.

"Hey, Country Mouse. You alive?"

His eyelids began blinking open, and he coughed, sitting up in the chair.

"Son- _Sonja?_ Is that you?" he mumbled, squinting in her direction.

"Yeah, it's me. We have to get out of here now, those jerks could show up any second."

As LaSalle regained his senses, his eyes went wide as he lunged forward, the restraints restricting his movement. Sonja raised a brow as she helped him out of the loosened ties, and LaSalle immediately threw his arms around her and held her close, his hand cradling her head. A surprised breath passed Sonja's lips as she returned the hug, arms wrapping around his back.

"I thought he already got to ya, I thought you were a goner," LaSalle rambled, referring to Mr. Livingston, his head buried in her neck. "You were right about him all along. How the hell did ya know I was in trouble?"

Sonja scoffed. "Believe it or not, Jan filled me in on almost everything. And no, LaSalle, I'm okay- but you're definitely not. _God_ I thought you would be alright when I found you. I'm sorry I was too late."

" _Mrs. Livingston?_ That's a bit unexpected. Don't worry about me, though, Percy. You're not too late. We still have a lil time to get outta here. Did ya call Brody?"

Sonja pulled away from the embrace and stood to assist him out of the chair, flinging his arm around her shoulder. She wrapped her arm around his waist and hoisted him to a standing position. He moaned, leaning into her.

"Are you okay to walk? Do you need help?" she asked, ignoring his question.

"I'm just a lil dehydrated is all, Percy. But your help is appreciated."

Sonja rolled her eyes with a smile at his 'tough guy' routine.

"I texted Brody earlier for backup but I didn't have time to check and see if she replied. Jan and everyone besides Mr. Livingston should be locked in the basement with my phone in case anyone calls." They were halfway across the room when Sonja paused, grimacing at his condition. "Are you _sure_ you're going to be okay? I can slow down if you need me to."

He shook his head, releasing a sigh from the pain.

"Nah, I ain't okay but if we slow down _neither_ of us is gonna make it out of here alive. I just hope the cops show up before things get real ugly."

The NCIS agents made it out of the room and down the hallway as efficient as possible, and exited the office building and into the night. The lights in the mansion remained alit with no sign of the authorities. The property was silent.

"If we're lucky, those guys got stuck in traffic and Mr. Livingston is too preoccupied to notice us making a clean getaway. I think we should just bust through that entrance gate and find a safe place to hide until the police get here. Any other suggestions?" Sonja looked up at LaSalle who was scoping the place out with his one good eye.

"I got nothin'," he shrugged. "Let's do it."

The pair ambled on and across the vast yard with the night as their cover. Sonja began to relax at the notion of safety and couldn't wait to get home to the city she loved the most. However, in the next second, the sound of footsteps began crunching in the gravel in front of the office building. A blur of voices began chattering and cursing about the unlocked door. LaSalle muttered foul language as he subconsciously drew Sonja nearer to him.

"What do we do?" she whispered, quickening their pace. "They're going to send a damn search party after us!"

"One of 'em looks like they're on the phone." LaSalle craned his neck to look further. "Mr. Livingston will be out here guns blazin' any minute. We're screwed without back-up."

"I have two revolvers and an extra magazine for each. After that we're out of ammunition," Sonja told him.

"We're almost to the gate. Let's just keep quiet and hope they don't run over here."

Suddenly, a pair of headlights went ablaze and pointed in the direction of the trees behind the office building. The group of men went rifling through the greenery searching for any sign of LaSalle. Then, a crowd of flashlights were aglow and more men were heading across the yard in _their_ direction.

"Shit!" LaSalle sent Sonja a concerned glance in the dark.

"There's nowhere to hide. It's hopeless, they'll see us." Sonja slowed to a stop and reached for her revolver. "Here. Take this."

She handed one to LaSalle who unwound his arm from her shoulder and stood on his own for the first time. She also handed him a magazine that he stuffed in his pocket as he quickly examined the weapon, making sure it was ready to go. Sonja took the other gun in her grasp.

They exchanged a look in the split second it took for the men to shine a light on them and discover their whereabouts.

"Hey! There they are! I found them!" a man shouted, raising his weapon along with the rest of criminals.

The agents instantaneously fired shots toward the group of men and took several out before the remaining men ran towards them at lightning speed with deadly expressions. Sonja was running out of bullets as one man approached her with a right hook to the face. She ducked, body slamming into him as they fell to the ground with a crash. The man wasted no time flipping the agent onto her back and wrapping his chubby fingers around her neck to squeeze. Sonja gritted her teeth, violently sending the butt of her gun across his temple. He fell to the side, unconscious, as she scurried to her feet. In a flash, her gun was reloaded and her eyes found LaSalle. He had two men surrounding him, one holding his arms back while the other rained punches into his ribcage. Sonja shot the man down as the other fell on top of LaSalle in an attempt to pin him to the ground. LaSalle flipped the script on him and managed to get him into a headlock, legs encircling the criminal to limit his movement.

"Percy! Look out!" he shouted, eyes bulging.

Before Sonja could turn around, she felt on object whack her from behind her knees, sending her tumbling to the ground onto her chest. In a hurry, she rolled onto back just in time to use both her feet and kick the assailant into the air and over her head. She stood, regaining her balance, as she rushed over to LaSalle who was finally discarding the lifeless body of his attacker. It took him a moment to stand as he bent over, bracing himself on his knees, breathing labored. The next group of men were abandoning the trees by the office building and making their way over to the agents, flashlights in hand.

"We should probably get out of here, before those boys make minced meat out of us," Sonja announced, taking LaSalle by the arm. She quickly surveyed his condition. "You're hurt pretty bad, aren't you? Can you run?"

He stood up straight, wincing. "I don't think runnin' would be such a good idea, but we're all outta options aren't we? It looks like we're on our own."

"Looks like it," she nodded.

The pair took off towards the gate, hustling as quickly as they could until they were only a few feet away from freedom. Sonja resisted the urge to look over her shoulder, her gun clasped in her hand, arms pumping. LaSalle used his left arm to wrap around a sore spot on his ribs, his gun up and ready in the other hand. Without warning gun shots rang into the night, and before Sonja comprehended the situation, she was in the grass with a searing pain in her leg. She cried out in agony, covering the wound in her thigh which was bad enough to have blood oozing out between her fingers. LaSalle screeched to a halt and flipped back around to rejoin her, worry etched all over his face.

"Are ya hit?" he shouted, unable to see the severity of her injuries at his distance.

"Yeah! It's my- ''

In the blink of an eye, gunfire exploded and Sonja was incapable of replying as a bullet whizzed into her shoulder, the force knocking her down. She went expressionless, her mouth hanging open as she stared into the starry night sky. A ringing began to grow in her ears as her vision went blurry, eyes closing then opening. _Crack. Crack. Crack._ The gunfire continued from both sides. In her peripheral vision, she noticed a man standing next to her firing a gun, then bending down and taking her own weapon. He continued to fire shots until the gun clicked, indicating it was empty. The man then kneeled to the ground, scooping her into his arms and placing her head on his lap. His large palms pressed into either side of her shoulder to stop the bleeding, causing her to emit a hiss.

"Percy, look at me. Open your eyes! _Look_ at me. You're gonna be alright, do ya hear me?" he was saying. Sonja opened her eyelids as he instructed and peered up at his face, which was a mixture of fear and agitation.

"LaSalle…" she whispered, raising her heavy arm to touch his cheek. As blood continued to leave her body and shock set in, Sonja found it almost impossible to stay awake. Her eyelids fluttered and her arm slowly fell to the ground as the sound of sirens flooded the estate, tires squealing. The security system on the gate was disarmed as multiple officers crowded the attackers. _Brody came through for us._

"This is the NYPD! Drop your weapons! Hands behind your head!"

The men stopped in their tracks and did as they were told as officers slapped cuffs onto the wrists, leading them away, reciting their rights. LaSalle was frantically motioning over the EMT.

"We need help over here! We have an agent down!" he yelled.

Sonja was nearly beyond the state of consciousness as multiple hands grabbed her and lifted her onto a gurney. Another group of officers with guns raised marched in single file line into the mansion, swiftly kicking the door ajar.

"Do you know all the location sites of injury?" a woman asked LaSalle as she pulled back Sonja's eyelids to shine a light in her eyes. LaSalle's hands were firmly gripped onto the metal sides of the gurney as the medical professionals wheeled it towards the ambulance.

"I- I don't know. I know she got hit in the leg at some point but I'm not sure where. She's losin' a lot of blood from the gunshot in her right shoulder though. It's, uh- pretty bad."

A man slipped an oxygen mask over Sonja's face as the woman and others shined a light onto Sonja's injured shoulder and legs.

"Okay people listen up. We have significant gunshot wounds in three locations. One, in the right shoulder. Through and through. Two in the left thigh, one through and through and one embedded. When we get into the vehicle I need this shoulder wrapped and I need pressure applied to the leg, is that understood? I will _not_ have this agent bleeding out on my watch!" the woman announced, eyeing her help with authority.

They nodded in unison, unfolding the ramp to the ambulance and rolling Sonja upward. LaSalle touched the woman's arm before she could retreat into the vehicle.

"Do ya mind if I come along? I wouldn't feel right lettin' her wake up in a place she doesn't know, all alone."

"Of course," she smiled. "She's going to need a friend to help her get through this."

LaSalle took a deep breath and glanced over his shoulder at the officers escorting Mrs. Livingston and her guests out of the mansion in cuffs. Bringing up the rear was Mr. Livingston, himself, with a deathly glare directed at LaSalle. The NCIS agent omitted a sigh of relief that a dangerous criminal was being taken off the streets, but his throat tightened at the thought of Sonja Percy paying the ultimate price because of it.

…

Sonja awoke in the hospital two days later successfully out of surgery but sore as hell. At first she was bewildered and thought she was in bed back in New Orleans, until she soon realized she was in a stark room hooked up to monitors. Flashbacks of the fateful night between her and LaSalle against Mr. Livingston's goons flooded her mind in full force. Sonja knew she must have been terribly injured. Assuming she was alone, Sonja was shocked to see LaSalle sleeping upright in a chair next to her bedside with a serene expression on his face, his arms crossed. She smiled and leaned into her pillows, her senses calming. Knowing him, he probably hadn't slept in days with his worry over her. She appreciated that he stayed with her throughout the entire ordeal like the remarkable partner he has proved himself to be ten times over. With any luck, Sonja hoped they would both be hopping a flight back home in a day or two and close their case once and for all with Amber Matthews resting in peace.

…

It took a bit longer than either of them expected, but three days later, Sonja was released from the hospital and okay to book a flight home. The agents were _far_ from fully recovered, but they both agreed they would rather heal in New Orleans than in a city they weren't very fond of. As they sat in a restaurant at the airport, LaSalle explained everything that he called and told Pride about regarding his encounter with Mr. Livingston in the office building- including the information of circulating fake artwork, the missing John Dover, and the deaths of Amber Matthews and Mr. Livingston's hired man Rafael and possibly others. Pride took note of every single detail and told LaSalle he would be getting in touch with a few people before he called him back with news. With newfound knowledge, Pride informed the NYPD in which they used the evidence during the interrogation process with all parties involved. The day after Sonja's surgery, Pride called and let LaSalle know that the Livingston's along with their housekeepers and guests were done being questioned. Mr. Livingston denied LaSalle's allegations along with his wife's _and_ henchmen which were nearly identical, but nonetheless, was arrested when bodies were discovered buried behind the office building by the crime scene investigators as well as in the woods only a block away. He was also charged in the murder of Amber Matthews without any reasonable doubt- Rafael couldn't take the fall for him this time. His henchmen were arrested for committing the murders and his wife, Jan, was also arrested as an accessory to the crimes which had gone on for exactly a year and a half. As it turned out, the housekeepers and guests had no involvement in the murders and knew nothing of Mr. Livingston's cruel nature. However, to everyone's surprise, the original painting was discovered without the help of the mysterious John Dover. Apparently, Dover had given the painting to Mr. Livingston's trusted friend and businessmen Roger- Macy's husband – for safe keeping until he returned from his sabbatical in India, unbeknownst to anyone. Roger admittedly never wanted the painting in his custody, knowing how hell-bent Lawrence was in finding it, but refused to sell it or give up its whereabouts at the risk of his livelihood. If he gave the painting back to Livingston, Dover would have been after him and vice versa. Though, being in the possession of stolen artwork, earned him a trip to jail regardless. Macy was found innocent. Currently, a manhunt was underway in the hopes of recovering John Dover from India, but at this point, his location remains unknown.

…

"What a mess. Amber, you and I, and all of the other victims basically walked into trap," Sonja sighed, resting her head against the airplane's seat. "None of us had any idea what we got ourselves into. Roger had the painting all along and wasn't going to say a damn word."

"Ain't that the truth. Mr. Livingston wasn't ever gonna find the paintin' he was lookin' for! Just more dead bodies. Thank God Jan came to her senses when she did."

The pair of NCIS Agents were on a plane to New Orleans, enjoying their first class seats and refreshments sitting side by side.

"I'm glad Livingston is getting what he deserves. But it's sort of bitter sweet."

"It is. But all those families' of the victims are gonna finally have some _peace._ Not to mention closure. I'm glad we could help 'em out, even if it meant gettin' tossed around a lil' bit. It was worth it."

Sonja glanced at LaSalle who was clad in his signature Henley t-shirt, jeans, and leather jacket. He wore a cap on his head as well. His busted lip was beginning to resume normalcy while he sported a black eye and several cuts and bruises. The nurses also told her that his ribs had got a pretty bad beating and were bruised as well. Sonja wore a simple blouse and jeans and left her hair down. Her leg was wrapped up as well as her shoulder and the hospital staff gifted her a crutch to get around with. She hated it.

"I wasn't much help after I went down. That could have been it for the both of us. I could have done more."

LaSalle raised a brow.

"You're _kiddin'_ , right? You were nothin' but help that night! Hell, Percy, you saved my ass more than once. If either of us was gonna mess somethin' up it was me."

" _How?_ For starters, I was your only back-up and I fell _asleep_ while they were beating you senseless! What kind of partner is that?"

"Nope, I'm not gonna let ya do this," LaSalle reprimanded, shaking his head. " _None_ of what happened was your fault or mine. We did the best we could and we did what we set out to do! We found our bad guy and closed this case."

Sonja was silent as a flight attendant brought them another round of beer with a pleasant smile on her face. LaSalle had previously gave her a fake explanation as to their injuries so she wouldn't get suspicious and alert authorities.

As soon as the woman departed, he turned toward Sonja.

"I know what happened to me and what happened to you was scary. When I saw ya layin' there with blood pourin' out of ya- '' he paused, his eyes looking to the ceiling then back at her, "I didn't know what to do or what to think. It was like that moment of you and Pride on the riverboat about to explode times ten. All I wanted was for you to be safe."

Sonja crossed her arms.

"That's how I felt when I saw you beaten and tied to a chair in that office building! I should have _known_ better to not let you walk in there alone. Who could trust that guy? I got freaky vibes from him the first time we met. I just feel like I could have done my job better, that's all."

"If ya don't feel like you could be a better agent, you _probably_ aren't a very good agent to begin with," he replied with a nudge to her uninjured shoulder. "I know I feel like that every day. That also means you're a really good person."

Sonja blankly stared at him for a second before a smile tugged the corner of her lip. He looked away, a grin spreading across his own lips.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I'm really glad you didn't die. That's what I've been trying to say."

"Well, thank you, Percy. I can say the feeling is most definitely mutual."

…

Hours had gone by and neither agents could sleep as darkness overtook the plane. All passengers were either sleeping or reading and the atmosphere was still. Sonja had her head propped on her fist as LaSalle had his hands behind his head, staring into space. She shifted uneasily, sneaking glances his way. It took him only a second to notice as he eyed her.

"What's up? You gotta go to the bathroom or somethin'?"

She rolled her eyes.

" _No._ I'm cool. Just thinking about stuff."

LaSalle brought his arms down and faced her, scratching his chin.

"What 'stuff'?"

"Um…I don't know. You wouldn't want to hear."

"You're not blamin' yourself again, are ya? I _told_ you- ''

"No. Nothing like that. It's something else."

LaSalle took a sip of water and narrowed his eyes, mind whirling.

"Well, are ya gonna tell me or do I have to keep askin' until you give up?"

She released a big breath, biting her lip.

"It's not a big deal, but we haven't really uh- discussed what happened between us the other day," she muttered, facing forward in her seat. She couldn't look him in the eye. _Why are you doing this, Sonja? You've truly lost your mind._

"Mhm. And what are ya referring to, exactly?" he replied, voice containing a hint of delight.

"You know, LaSalle!"

He laughed.

"You mean that _kiss_ we shared? It wasn't all an act?"

She stole a look his direction and saw his eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Stop it, Christopher! You know I'm not good talking about this kind of thing, damn it!"

A couple from the row beside them sent a harsh ' _shh!'_ which made Sonja glow bright red.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He put his hands up in defense but his grin hadn't fallen from his face. "Why do you wanna talk about it? What's botherin' ya?"

" _What?"_ her eyes went wide. "I only brought it up because I thought it was going to bother _you!"_

LaSalle shook his head, smile unwavering.

"I got tied to a chair and beaten, you got shot three times, and ya think I'm worried about a _kiss?"_

"Oh," Sonja was slightly taken aback at his logic. "I guess it sounds dumb when you put it that way! But are you?"

"Nah. I'm not worried, Percy." LaSalle's eyes began to soften like they had a tendency to do. Sonja couldn't look away. "Whether it was Ryan and Alicia or me and you, I don't care either way. It happened and it was good. I got no complaints."

Sonja was still alarmed at the fact that LaSalle had the ability to quell her fears in a matter of seconds.

"Really?"

"Really, really."

"Okay then…"

"Now comes the part where you say you're gonna kill me if I tell anyone, right?" he winked.

Sonja sat still for a moment carefully formulating an answer.

"Nope."

LaSalle's mouth dropped open.

" _No?"_

"You heard me. It would be a hell of a lot of work to deny it, right? I'm not really into that anymore." She shrugged, downplaying the thudding acceleration of her heart rate. After stating those words, there was no going back. From now on, _everything_ was going to change, like the way it already had been. The dominoes were officially in full motion. By the look in LaSalle's eyes she knew he was becoming aware of the situation.

"I see," he nodded, adjusting his hat with a playful expression.

"Yeah, well, I guess I'll get some sleep now. We should be home soon."

LaSalle grinned and slid further down in seat, pulling the bill of hat over his eyes, leaving only his mouth exposed. The pair sat in comfortable silence until he cleared his throat.

"Would you ever wanna go undercover again? Or have ya had enough?"

"I would. It's the most stressful thing I've ever done, but it feels good when the bad guy gets put away in the end. What about you?"

"I would too," he smiled. "As long as I get to go undercover with you!"

Sonja scoffed.

" _Why?"_

"Isn't it more fun that way, City Mouse?"

"You're not getting any more kisses, LaSalle, I can promise you that!"

"That's fine. I'll settle for ya wearin' those dresses again."

Sonja attempted to conceal a smile as she reached over and whacked him on the arm.

"Shut up."

"It was a pleasure workin' with ya, Mrs. Matthews."

LaSalle tipped up his hat to gage her reaction. Sonja slowly rolled her eyes before she amusingly leaned against him.

"It was a pleasure working with you, Mr. Matthews."

…

 _ **One year later…**_

Twelve months had passed since the Amber Matthews's case and life continued on at the NCIS agency centered in New Orleans. Each case was just as important as the last and team was becoming stronger than ever. As for Percy and LaSalle, the pair had been officially dating for six months. The months before that, consisted of arguments and long phone calls about the complication of feelings in the workplace- in other words, their relationship was on and off. It was finally Christopher LaSalle who made the first big move and asked Sonja out on a date, a real one in which _she_ agreed to. After that, everything fell into place and before they knew it they were a couple- with the exception of prematurely revealing themselves to their co-workers. It was Sonja's idea to take it slow and see where it lead them, and LaSalle agreed. Jumping the gun and alerting Pride and the team would only result in an onslaught of questions neither of them were prepared to answer yet. It was risky keeping a secret of that magnitude, but the pair agreed to keep their _work_ relationship professional for the sake of the team, and leave the PDA at the door. Sonja had no problem abiding to that rule, but some days LaSalle was another story. If he wasn't careful, there was a _strong_ possibility of Pride catching him in the act, and then the jig would be up.

"Do ya mind if we walk to the club, tonight? I know it's a little ways off from Pride's place, but the weather's nice," LaSalle asked, draping an arm around Sonja's neck, pulling her close.

"I don't mind," she replied, grasping his arm. "I can't believe we got those guys _hooked_ on that place! I didn't think they'd like it so much. Especially Sebastian. Remember the time he crashed into the band and took the microphone to sing? I was so embarrassed for him."

"Oh, yeah," he laughed. "He's such a goof. I'm glad everyone likes the joint though. After all, it's where we had our first date." LaSalle's eyebrows began to wiggle. "It has sentimental value."

"We did _not,"_ Sonja grumbled. "We were just two friends having some drinks and hanging out. We had our first date six months ago, if you recall."

"I recall, alright," he nodded with a smirk. "That was a good time."

Sonja rolled her eyes as she knocked into him with her hip.

"Hey, didn't you say you wanted to show me something after work? What was that about?"

"Oh, right! I almost forgot." LaSalle quickly skid to a stop on the sidewalk underneath a light post and removed his arm from Sonja. He then retrieved an opened envelope from his jean pocket, which he held out for Sonja to take. She raised a brow, plucking the object from his hand.

"What is this?"

"Just look inside. You'll see," he grinned.

Sonja reached into the envelope and revealed a photo. There was no letter to be found but instead a hand-written note on the back of the picture in red ink, reading: _**Thank you, Christopher LaSalle and Sonja Percy. Thank you NCIS! We wouldn't be here without you. We will never forget. Best wishes, signed Ryan, Alicia, and Lillian Matthews.**_ Sonja sucked in air as she flipped the photo over which showed a man, a woman, and their newborn baby in a hospital room. The smiles on their faces nearly knocked her over.

"Oh my God, LaSalle! I haven't seen a picture of them since the day we were assigned the case. They had a _baby?_ " she exclaimed, holding up the snapshot.

"Yep, they sure did," he grinned, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Pride found it in the mail this mornin'. I haven't had time to show ya until now."

"Wow. This is great news," she smiled, gazing at the photograph once more. "Now their family can get a fresh start."

She only looked for a few seconds more until she returned the picture to the envelope and handed it to LaSalle. He slipped it back into his pocket and looped an arm around her neck, pulling her over to him once more.

"Looks like the Matthew's had a kid after all," Sonja muttered, smiling.

"I told ya they would," he replied, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Yeah. Except, you thought they would have two or three!"

"Maybe they will! Ya never know."

"One sounds good to me."

"Are we still talkin' about the Matthew's or are we talkin' about _us?_ "

"You're such an ass, LaSalle."

"Yeah, I know."


End file.
